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DENTON’S 
FANCIFUL TALES 






























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She was once a dryad belonging to a 
beautiful tree 












DENTON’S 

FANCIFUL TALES 


Homespun and Cozy Cornerstones 

- 

By CLARA f. DENTON 

Author of Runaway Nanny 

Robin Red Breast's Home, Real Out of Doors Stories, Etc. 



Illustrations by 

VIOLET MOORE HIGGINS 


J. T. COCHRAN 

^Afhert' cj/YfieTrndn. dnc/Compmu 
jPu6//shers ^ 

oosr «( 6 Hr 450OK 5 

Chic ageo, U.S-A. 

'A 






Copyright 1927 



ALBERT WHITMAN & COMPANY 


Chicago, U. S. A 


OTHER 

TITLES UNIFORM 
WITH THIS BOOK 

Robin Red Breast’s Home 

Mother Brown Earth’s 
Children 

Little Folks From Etiquette 
Town 



FEB 17'28 


©Cl A106S053 


Printed in the United States of America. 







ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS 


The publishers of Cozy-Corner Tales herewith extend 
thanks for kind courtesy of permission to republish the stories 
as follows: 


Bird in the Well.To Philadelphia Times 

The King, the Eggs and the Chimpanzee. 

.To the Call of the South 

Little King Who Was Not Clever.To Advance 

The Ezyspel.To Advance 

The Feather Trap.To Advance 

The Selfish Pebble.To Christian Work, N. Y. 

The Best Fairies.To New Magazine 

Behind the Walls.To New Magazine 


Third Printing 1926 













BOOK ONE 

Page 


THE WANDERING DRYAD. 7 

THE ENCHANTED PRINCESS. 18 

THE WUZZLE . 33 

THE MARBLE SPOUT. 50 

THE GOLDEN LOCKS. 66 

THE SILENCER . 78 

THE GNOME KING . 93 

THE ACCIDENTAL CANDY.101 

ALONE IN THE FOREST.112 

LITTLE SHINER.119 












BOOK TWO 

Page 

THE BIRD IN THE WELL. 7 

THE KING’S EGGS AND CHIM¬ 
PANZEES . 19 

MR. PHUNNYMAN . 31 

THE LITTLE KING WHO WAS NOT 

CLEVER. 38 

THE EZESPEL. 80 

THE FEATHER TRAP. 95 

THE SELFISH PEBBLE.106 

THE BEST FAIRIES.Ill 

BEHIND THE WALLS.120 














WouldrUt they let you be King any longer?** 
From story (The Little Shiner) 












































































































DENTON’S 

FANCIFUL TALES 



Every tree has within it a guardian spirit called a dryad 


THE WANDERING DRYAD 

TT IS a strange story, but it was told to me by 
the wood elves, and therefore I am not 
responsible for its truth. 

Did I ever see the wood elves? No! I have 
not seen them, but I hear them every time I 


7 




HOMESPUN STORIES 


go to the forest, and very strange indeed are the 
stories which they tell to me. Their voices are 
so low that unless you listen very closely you 
cannot even hear them, much less understand 
their talk. 

So, the folks that are careless talkers who 
love nothing so well as the sound of their own 
voices, whether they really mean anything or 
not, have but a small chance of hearing any of 
the wonderful things which the wood elves have 
to tell. 

There is the old Grecian story that every 
tree has within it a guardian spirit called a 
dryad. The lives of these dryads are bound up 
in the lives of their trees, and if anything hap¬ 
pens to the tree whereby its life ends, its dryad 
also dies—they are inseparable. But, once upon 




THE WANDERING DRYAD 


9 


a time, so the wood elves whispered to me, a 
very strange thing had happened in the forest; 
a dryad had wandered off and left her tree. Such 
a thing had never been known before, and the 
whole forest was distressed about it. 

Not only were all the dryads and the hama¬ 
dryads, the naiads and the nymphs wailing over 
the lost dryad, but the wood elves, the fairies 
and the gnomes were grieving and wondering 
over the strange event. 

The king of the forest was more troubled 
than anyone, because he said, “It has always 
been supposed that no dryad could escape from 
her tree, but now that one has gone away, it 
will not be long, I fear, before every dryad 
and hamadryad will be running off to see the 
world. The discontent may even spread to the 




10 


HOMESPUN STORIES 


naiads and the nereids, the elves and the 
gnomes, and presently I shall be a king without 
any kingdom.” 

In the midst of his sad musings one of the 
wood elves came running to him with the news 
that the tree which had been deserted by its 
dryad was dying. This story threw the poor 
king into a panic. Were the trees then to de¬ 
pend on the dryads for their lives? Everything 
seemed turning topsy turvy, and if all the 
dryads should take it into their heads to run 
away, and all the trees should die in conse¬ 
quence, what would become of the living things 
in the forest? More than that, what kind of a 
place would this old earth be without any trees 
to beautify and protect it? 

As this dreadful thought took possession 
of the poor king’s mind he jumped from his 




THE WANDERING DRYAD 


11 


throne and began running about his palace so 
wildly that his crown fell off and rolled out of 
sight under an acorn cup, where it was lost for 
as much as five minutes, before it was even 
missed by its owner. There was but one 
thought in the mind of the king; Something 
must be done to save that dying tree, just for 
the sake of example if for nothing more. 

When he had finally sent off two wood 
elves with a message to Mother Nature to come 
quickly and revive the dying tree, he missed 
his crown. 

Then there was trouble, and by the time the 
pretty bauble was found and once more safely 
placed upon his head, the sceptre in his hand 
and himself back upon his throne in all his 
royal state, the wood elves came running in 
with a message from Mother Nature, saying 




12 


HOMESPUN STORIES 


that she could do nothing with the tree, that 
“it must die unless the dryad could be restored 
to its old home therein.” 

This message threw the king into a terrible 
rage. He was not one to believe that “nothing 
could be done.” 

He always expected his folks to discover 
what was wrong before they gave up the remedy, 
unreasonable as it might be; in this he was not 
unlike some people that we know. So he sent 
the swift little wood elves with this message to 
Mother Nature: “This tree must be revived. 
Pour upon it your most refreshing showers, turn 
upon it the full glory of your finest sunshine, 
give it your coolest and softest breezes. There 
is no help to be got from the dryad, she neither 
can nor may come back; in the first place she is 
lost; no one knows where she is, besides, since 




THE WANDERING DRYAD 


13 


she has broken the ancient law of the forest, she 
should not be allowed to come back, even 
though she wished to do so. She must pay the 
penalty of her disobedience by wandering 
henceforth over the wide world without a 
home.” 

The wood elves had no sooner departed 
than a troop of Brownies came running to the 
king with this strange tale. 

“May it please your majesty,” began the 
spokesman, “as we were wandering over the 
world looking for some suffering creature 
whom we might help, we found a little one sit¬ 
ting upon a stone and weeping her life away. 
We soon learned her story, she was once a 
dryad belonging to a beautiful tree in a far-off 
forest, but she broke away from her tree and 
started out to see the world, thinking that she 




14 


HOMESPUN STORIES 


could return when she wished, but she could 
not find the way back, and now she is lonely 
and sorrowful for her beautiful home. As we 
could not tell whence she came we thought it 
wise to come to your majesty with her story.” 

The king’s brow darkened as he told the 
Brownies his decision about the dryad. 

“But, your majesty,” exclaimed the 
Brownie, “if you could have heard her sobbing 
and wailing for her lost home, you must have 
relented. Her cries sounded around the whole 
earth until the people said, ‘Hark, how the 
wind is blowing!’ Oh, your majesty, it was 
indeed very sad.” 

The king sat in silence; his was a tender 
heart, but there was the broken law! Suddenly 
an idea came over him so forcibly that he 
sprang to his feet and nearly upset his throne. 




THE WANDERING DRYAD 


15 


“My throne is shaking,” he said with a 
laugh, as he reached out his sceptre and 
straightened it again, “but no matter, it is not 
like a human throne, because if this one gives 
out, Mother Nature will grow another one for 
me in a single night.” 

When he had settled himself firmly on 
his seat again he took from his bosom a tiny 
whistle and blew upon it a long silvery note. 
In a twinkling the king was surrounded by all 
the wood-people — fairies, elves, gnomes, 
brownies, pixies and sprites of all kinds, of 
which you and I do not even know the names— 
all standing at attention and waiting to know 
the king’s commands. 

He told them in exact words the story of 
the dryad and the broken law, of her sorrow 
and repentance, of her wish to return to the 




16 


HOMESPUN STORIES 


tree and of its sad, dying state. In closing he 
said: 

“You know how closely we wood people 
obey laws and how severely we punish those 
who break them, so, while I am sorry for the 
dryad, I could think of but one way in which 
I could let her escape further punishment, 
and this is what you are to do to help the poor 
dryad; you are to look for a child, who for a 
month, a whole month, mind you, obeys every 
command given to it, when you have found it, 
bring me the child’s name. When this is done, 
but not before, I will send the Brownies to 
escort the dryad back to her tree.” 

Then the meeting broke up; the sprites 
scattered, the king left his throne, took off his 
crown, for after all that serious thinking his 
head ached, and stretching himself on a bed of 




THE WANDERING DRYAD 17 



“The king is still sleeping ” 


moss, he said to his attendants, “I must have a 
long nap, let no one disturb me until the mes¬ 
sengers return with the name of that child,” and 
in another moment he was sound asleep. 

“But,” said the wood elves in concluding 
this story, “we are sorry to tell you that the king 
is still sleeping.” 

However, that was a long while ago, and 
I feel sure that the king must have been wak¬ 
ened by this time. What do you think about it? 





THE ENCHANTED PRINCESS 


'T'HERE was once upon a time a queen 
named Agnes who was very unhappy 
because her son was about to marry a beautiful 
but ill-tempered princess. 

“He cannot be happy with her, I know he 
cannot,” she would moan to herself in the still 
hours of the night as she lay awake, brooding 
over the future. 

But one night, after several hours of 
anxious tossing she fell asleep and a dream so 
beautiful came to her that when she awoke in 
the morning a happy smile was on her lips. 
She lay quietly thinking for a few minutes 

and then she said to herself softly; “I’ll try it.” 

18 


THE ENCHANTED PRINCESS 


19 


She crept out of bed and seated herself on 
the floor. 

This was not an easy task, for the swiftly 
flying years had made her quite stout and not 
so limber in her joints, but she didn’t mean to 
be overcome by such trifles. 

As soon as she was comfortably seated she 
closed her eyes and said aloud, but very softly; 

“Fairy, Fairy Lovelight, with the wand of 
gold, 

Come and do my bidding ere the day 
grows old.” 

Then she waited, and in a few moments 
she heard a soft rustling behind her. 

She turned her head and saw in a large 
chair near by a dimpled, chubby little woman 
wrapped in a long gray cloak looking at her 
with kindly eyes. 




20 


HOMESPUN STORIES 


“So you obeyed my dream children.” Said 
the little woman. 

“Yes,” answered the queen, “of course I 
did, there was nothing else to do.” 

“Umph!” said the little woman crossly; 
and then she began to grow smaller and smaller, 
until the queen, fearing she would disappear 
entirely, threw her arms out toward her and 
begged; 

“Oh, don’t go yet.” 

“I am not going,” said the fairy, “I am 
only growing smaller because I am offended.” 

“Oh,” said the queen ready to cry, “I 
understand and indeed, I don’t wonder that you 
are offended. It was certainly neither kind nor 
polite to say what I did, but I am sure you will 
forgive me when you know how desperate my 
situation is.” 




THE ENCHANTED PRINCESS 


21 


“I know all about it,” said the little woman, 
who, being pleased by the queen’s apology, 
was now rapidly regaining her natural size. 

“If I hadn’t known all about it I shouldn’t 
have taken the trouble to send my dream-sprites 
to you. I am the fairy Lovelight for whom you 
were calling. I have always looked after the 
Oldern family, and now that this trouble for 
your son, Theobald, was so near at hand, it 
seemed best for me to interfere. 

“Before we go any further, suppose you 
get up and sit in a chair. I am sure you will 
be more comfortable, and as I only ordered you 
to sit on the floor to test your obedience, it is 
quite useless for you to remain there any 
longer.” 

Although it had been hard for the queen to 




22 


HOMESPUN STORIES 


sit down on the floor, it was much harder for 
her to rise from it. She made two or three vain 
efforts, and finally, as a last resort, caught at 
the large chair in which the fairy sat, and by 
its help, after much tugging and groaning 
managed to stand upright. 

She had been so absorbed in her struggles 
that she had not noticed her visitor, but now, 
as she turned her eyes that way, she saw, to her 
great surprise, that the small figure had grown 
so large that it nearly reached to the ceiling. 

At this unexpected transformation the 
queen stood gazing with wondering eyes at the 
still rapidly growing form. 

Presently her wits returned to her and she 
turned to flee from the room. 

Then the fairy called out, in her soft, sil¬ 
very voice, 




THE ENCHANTED PRINCESS 


23 


“Come back, come back! you have noth¬ 
ing to fear.” 

Slowly the queen returned, keeping her 
eyes closely on the fairy, however, who now 
began to dwindle away very fast. 

‘You are weak-hearted, indeed,” she said, 
“to run from a little thing like that, I was only 
laughing.” 

“Laughing!” exclaimed the queen, in 
great amazement. 

“Yes, you have seen that when I am 
offended I grow smaller; by the same rule I 
grow larger when I am pleased or amused. 
That is my way of both smiling and laughing.” 

“Oh,” said the queen, “then I suppose one 
can tell, by the rate at which you expand, the 
amount of pleasure you feel?” 




24 


HOMESPUN STORIES 


“Exactly,” said the fairy, “you really catch 
the idea very clearly.” 

“Then you must have been greatly pleased 
just now, though I cannot imagine what you 
found to laugh at.” 

“If you could have seen yourself getting 
up from the floor,” said the fairy, beginning to 
expand again. 

“Oh well, never mind, never mind,” said 
the queen, much annoyed, and secretly thinking 
the fairy a very rude person; “we will let that 
pass. I dare say I was a funny sight, but I’m 
sure you did not come here simply to see me 
show my awkwardness. I am certain you can 
and will help my poor child, Theobald.” 

“I will try,” said the fairy, who had, by this 
time, returned to her natural size, “but it is not 




THE ENCHANTED PRINCESS 


25 


an easy thing to do. The Princess Catherine, 
whom your son wishes to marry, is enchanted 
by a wicked fairy. I don’t know what would 
become of the poor mortals if it were not for 
the law of fairyland that for every evil enchant¬ 
ment placed upon them there exists a counter 
one that makes it powerless if the person hap¬ 
pens to discover it. But if it should be revealed 
to him or her by anyone, it loses its power. Do 
you understand?” 

“Oh yes,” said the queen, “you mean that 
if you should go to the princess and tell her 
what to do, she could not be helped by obeying 
you.” 

“Yes,” said the fairy, “that is it; we must 
manage matters in some way so that the prin¬ 
cess will not only want to do the thing that will 




26 


HOMESPUN STORIES 


help her, but will carry it out fully, without any 
advice or command from anyone; and, of 
course, it remains with you to arouse this 
desire.” 

“Oh, I will do anything, anything,” 
promised the queen quickly. 

“There is another difficulty,” continued 
the fairy, “if the enchantment is not broken 
before the close of her twentieth birthday, there 
is no power that can effect it until her thirtieth 
birthday.” 

“Oh,” sobbed the queen, “and her birthday 
is so near!” 

“Fortunately,” continued the fairy hope¬ 
fully, “the charm requires but one day in which 
to work. Now listen, for my time is almost up, 
and I cannot repeat the directions. This is the 




THE ENCHANTED PRINCESS 


27 


charm that will save the princess: From the 
time that she is dressed in the morning, until 
she is undressed at night, she must not spend 
one idle moment. 

It is of no consequence what her work may 
be, but she must keep at it continually, pausing 
only for her meals. If she can do this for one 
whole day between now and the close of her 
twentieth birthday, her evil temper will be 
gone, and she will be the most charming prin¬ 
cess in the round world. Her character will be 
as beautiful as her face.” 

“It sounds very simple,” said the queen 
with a sob, “but I fear it can never be done. 
You know, of course, that the princess is as idle 
as though she were dead. She never did a 
single useful thing in her life.” 




28 


HOMESPUN STORIES 


“I know it, and if she spent some of her 
energy in work, she wouldn’t have so much to 
waste in temper. But now my time is up, and 
you must manage as best you can.” 

There was a soft, whizzing sound, a tiny 
speck of light that went out in a second, and the 
queen was once more alone. 

Then she set her wits to work. She thought 
and thought, planned and studied, and by and 
by she had an inspiration. 

The next day the court ladies were all sum¬ 
moned to the queen’s presence and she made 
them this little speech; 

“I have invented a new kind of quilt which 
will be useful to poor people, and I want to 
begin one right away, so that they may become 
the fashion before the winter sets in, but I must 




THE ENCHANTED PRINCESS 


29 


have your help. Therefore, I ask you to bring 
me, tomorrow, as great a variety as possible of 
small pieces of silk and satin. The one who 
brings the largest and best collection shall have 
a ball given in her honor as soon as the quilt is 
finished.” 

The queen’s next move was to invite the 
princess to be present on the following day to 
help her decide on the claims of the various col¬ 
lections. 

By this means the princess was present 
when the queen commenced what she called a 
“crazy quilt,” which had never been heard of 
before in that land. 

As the good queen had hoped, the princess 
Catherine became infatuated with the beautiful 
“crazy quilt” and declared her intention to 
make one “some day.” 




30 


HOMESPUN STORIES 


Then the wise queen told her that if she 
would work with her she might have the beau¬ 
tiful and novel quilt for her own when it was 
finished. 

It took the princess nearly a whole day to 
make up her mind, but as every lady at court 
had begun one of the new-fashioned quilts, she 
finally decided to start one. She arose one morn¬ 
ing so full of thoughts about the silk “crazy 
quilt” that she could hardly wait to begin it. 

The good queen kept close beside her all 
day, bringing out new shades and suggesting 
new combinations, fearing every moment that 
the natural indolence of the princess would 
assert itself and thus destroy all her hopes. 

But the princess worked on and on, 
scarcely stopping to eat until the clock struck 





But the princess worked on and on — 





























































32 


HOMESPUN STORIES 


the midnight hour. Then the good queen went 
to bed with a quiet mind. 

When the quilt was finished the queen sent 
a herald to proclaim through the land that there 
should be a week of feasting and rejoicing. 

Great merrymaking followed. Everybody 
was given a holiday; even the poorest wood-cut¬ 
ter in the land took part in the general joy. 

Many people wondered why there should 
be so great a celebration over the introduction 
of a new-fashioned quilt, even though it were 
useful to people who wanted to use up bits and 
scraps of silk. 

But queen Agnes kept her own counsel, 
and no one knew all that the quilt meant to her; 
for the enchantment was broken, and Catherine 
ever afterward was both sweet-tempered and in¬ 
dustrious. 





The Wuzzle 


“THE WUZZLE.” 

“/''"'AN you straighten out this wuzzle for 
^ me, Millie?” asked grandmother. 

“I don’t know what that is,” said Millie. 
Her grandmother had lately come to live 
at Millie’s home, and this was a new word to 
the little girl. 

“Well, that’s a wuzzle,” said grandmother 
laughing, as she laid in Millie’s hand a soft 


33 




34 


HOMESPUN STORIES 


little bunch of tangled sewing silk and thread. 

“Oh yes, I like to do that,” said Millie, and 
taking some ivory silk-winders, she went out to 
her hammock. 

As she picked away at the ends of the silk, 
she thought, 

“How funny grandmother is, I wonder 
why she didn’t call this a snarl, or a tangle.” 
Then she kept saying the funny word over and 
over to herself, and finally she began to sing 
softly to words of her own choosing, which 
was one of her favorite pastimes; 

“I wonder what a wuzzle is, 

A wuzzle, wuzzle, wuzzle, 

Just a puzzle, puzzle, puzzle, 

That is what a wuzzle is.” 

She picked away patiently at the tangle, 




THE WUZZLE 


35 


pulling out now and then a long thread which 
she wound up neatly on an ivory silk winder. 
It was very quiet work, the hammock swayed 
gently. A cicada in a tree near by, chirped 
monotonously, and Millie pretty soon found 
herself growing sleepy. But she drew herself 
up, of course she wasn’t going to sleep in broad 
daylight; and she tugged away, still harder, at 
the tight central knot of the wuzzle. 

But suddenly her hands were empty and 
she looked around anxiously for the wuzzle. 

In a moment she saw something on the 
edge of the hammock directly in front of her 
that was like, yet very unlike, the wuzzle. 

It had arms and legs that were thin and 
thread-like. Its body was clad in a variegated 
jacket exactly like the many colored threads in 




36 


HOMESPUN STORIES 


the tangle. The whole was surmounted by a 
little round head covered with long hair that 
stood out in a very disorderly manner, and al¬ 
most hid a pair of bright black eyes that looked 
mischievously at Millie. 

“O my,” said the little girl in a frightened 
whisper. 

“But I’m not yours,” said a fine soft voice. 

“Whose are you then—and who are you 
too?” asked the astonished Millie. 

“Why, don’t you remember, I’m the Wuz- 
zle, I made a pretty good jump didn’t I?” and 
the funny little thing threw its arms and legs 
about in great delight. 

“But you had no right to jump away from 
me like that, and I’m sure grandmother 
wouldn’t like it,” said Millie severely. 





66 


Why, don’t you remember, Vm the Wuzzle” 


37 


















38 


HOMESPUN STORIES 


“Your grandmother, oh, your grand¬ 
mother,” said the Wuzzle, laughing so hard that 
it nearly lost its balance, “much I care for her.” 

“But you belong to her,” said Millie in¬ 
dignantly. 

“Well, I’m sorry to contradict you, my 
dear, but you’re entirely wrong on that point.” 

“Then to whom do you belong?” asked 
Millie in much surprise. 

“To a princess,” said the Wuzzle. 

“Really?” exclaimed the delighted Millie, 
“where is she?” 

“That’s just what I’d like to know,” and 
Millie was sure there were tears in the bright, 
black eyes. 

“Do tell me about the princess,” begged 
Millie. 




THE WUZZLE 


39 


“I’ll be glad to,” said the Wuzzle, “for I 
don’t often have a chance to talk about those 
happy times.” 

“But how do you know she was a prin¬ 
cess?” 

“The darning-needle told me.” 

“O, how lovely!” exclaimed Millie, “and 
now tell me exactly how she looked.” 

“She had long, golden hair and blue eyes, 
with the sweetest face that was always smiling. 
She was very good indeed to us, she let us do 
just as we pleased and also gave us a beautiful 
house to live in.” 

“Us?” interrupted Millie, “were there 
others there besides yourself?” 

“Yes indeed,” replied the Wuzzle with a 
long sigh, “a great many, and a very select 




40 


HOMESPUN STORIES 


company we were too. Oh! but those were de¬ 
lightful times,” and the Wuzzle paused, lost in 
its thoughts of the past. 

“But tell me the names of your friends,” 
said Millie, a little impatiently. 

“Ah, yes,” said the Wuzzle, “pardon me, I 
forgot myself for the moment. Well, there was 
Miss Thimble, a high-bred lady, Miss Emery, 
Madame Pincushion, Mr. and Mrs. Scissors 
and a very numerous family called the Silks, 
of whom there were so many that I cannot re¬ 
member all their names. The Threads and 
Yarns were also a large family, their manners 
were not quite so good as the Silks, but they 
were very worthy people. 

Then there was Mr. Beeswax, he was a 
great favorite among us, for he kept everything 
so smooth. I don’t believe we could have lived 







42 


HOMESPUN STORIES 


in the same house with Miss Emery if it had 
not been for his gentle manners. Another gen¬ 
tleman who was very necessary in our com¬ 
munity, although we all feared him a little, was 
Mr. Tape-line. He kept us all straight, and 
there is no telling what strange things we might 
have done had it not been for him. 

“Then there was Mr. Stiletto, he was an 
extremely handsome fellow and quite a favorite, 
although he had a way of, now and then, saying 
things that were rather sharp. He was an ad¬ 
mirer of the Thread family and they were quite 
often visiting together. Miss Glovemender, 
tried very hard to attract his attention, but he 
had no time for her. Dear me! what very fine 
times we did have, and no one knows how I 
long to see my companions again. We were 
never called upon to work, and as our house 




THE WUZZLE 


43 


stood in a prominent place, and as it was nearly 
always left open, that is with the roof turned 
back, we had a fine chance to see and hear 
many things in the great world. 

“Mrs. Scissors, who was there, a very sharp 
old lady, declares that the reason the roof 
to our house was always lifted up was because 
there was a mirror in it. Do you happen to 
know what a mirror is?” 

“Well, I should think so,” said Millie, a 
little indignantly. 

“Then you will understand what Mrs. Scis¬ 
sors meant, she was very hard to deceive. 
Sometimes one of the members of the Yarn 
family would amuse us with a story, but if she 
told the least thing that was not strictly true, 
my! how quickly Mrs. Scissors would know it, 
and she’d cut it all to pieces. 




44 


HOMESPUN STORIES 


“I must admit that she was right about the 
mirror, for our mistress, the princess, never 
came that way without stopping to look in it, 
but one could hardly blame her, for she cer¬ 
tainly made a very beautiful picture,” and 
closing its tale, with a long sigh, the Wuzzle 
remained silent for several minutes, evidently 
dreaming of the charming princess. 

“But,” said Millie, when she thought she 
had borne the silence long enough, “if you were 
so happy there, why did you come away?” 

“I am certain I don’t know,” said the Wuz¬ 
zle with another sigh,“but one day when we were 
all having a merry time watching Miss Darn¬ 
ing-needle and Mr. Bodkin dance the polka— 
the canary bird furnished the music—we were 
suddenly thrown out of our beautiful house, 
and we all struck the table in a heap together. 





iolet^ 

/loore 



























THE WUZZLE 


45 


Mrs. Scissors, who happened to land on the top 
of the pile, said it was the princess herself who 
carried our house off, and that she probably 
wanted it to put chocolates in, but I never could 
believe that story. I think it was just some of 
Mrs. Scissors’ merry gossip. But by and by my 
friends began to be picked up and carried 
away. One by one I saw my beloved compan¬ 
ions depart until I was left entirely alone. It 
was then that I learned to love the princess so 
dearly, for having nothing else to do I passed 
my time in watching her whenever she was in 
the room. 

“But one unlucky day for me, when she 
was not near, someone picked me up and car¬ 
ried me off, and here I am.” 

“Yes,” said Millie sadly, “and that isn’t the 


worst of it either.” 




46 


HOMESPUN STORIES 


“Well, I don’t see how anything that is 
worse can happen to me, now that I have got 
away from you. Of course if I had stayed with 
you much longer there wouldn’t have been any¬ 
thing left of me. My! it makes me shiver when 
I remember how near you came to pulling me 
to pieces.” 

“But,” said Millie very gently, “I shall 
have to do it after all, for grandmother told me 
to, and I must obey her, though you can’t 
imagine how I do dread to do it.” 

“O,” said the Wuzzle, winking very hard 
at Millie, “I think you’ll have to catch me first.” 

“That is easy enough,” said Millie, mak¬ 
ing a swift dash at the Wuzzle, but instead of 
closing her hand upon it, she rolled out of the 
hammock and came down upon the grass with 
a thump. 




THE WUZZLE 


47 


She jumped up quickly and looked around 
for the Wuzzle, but it was not to be seen. She 
went into the house with a very long face. 

“Grandmother,” she said, “do you think it 
can find its way back to the princess?” 

Grandmother took off her spectacles and 
looked at Millie. 

“So you have been dreaming about a prin¬ 
cess, I saw you were having a nice nap. But 
where is my silk?” 

“It’s gone, grandma, I looked all around 
in the hammock and everywhere, but I couldn’t 
find it,” and she sobbed a little. 

“O, never mind, my pet,” said grandmoth¬ 
er consolingly, “you needn’t care, it wasn’t of 
much consequence anyway.” 

“But—but it was a Wuzzle,” said Millie 
between her sobs. 




48 


HOMESPUN STORIES 


Grandmother laughed a little, but added 
quickly; 

“Well, the world is full of Wuzzles, dear, 
you will probably see many more before you 
die, though you may not give them exactly that 
name.” 

“But where did you get this one, grand¬ 
mother?” 

“What a queer child you are, I didn’t get 
it, it made itself from the loose ends of my 
spools.” 

Millie was silent a moment then she said; 

“Grandmother has my cousin Rose, where 
you’ve been living, long golden curls and blue 
eyes?” 

“Why, of course she has, you cannot have 
forgotten how she looks? She’s a very pretty 




THE WUZZLE 


49 


girl, but a very useless one also, as I have told 
you before. I am glad you do not live near her.” 

“I do wish I could find that Wuzzle,” 
said Millie mournfully, as she turned to go out 
of doors. 

This wish, however, was never granted, but 
if Millie had understood bird language, she 
would have found out what had become of the 
Wuzzle. 





THE MARBLE SPOUT. 


ONG, long, ago, in a far-away land called 



Mabiseau, a good man named Kynde- 
heart was made king. When he was a very 
little boy he said to himself that if he ever be¬ 
came king he would help the beggars that al¬ 
ways hung about the palace gates. 

So, the day after he was crowned, and 
while the people were still making merry over 
the great event, a company of workmen came 
to the palace wall, and began making a hole 
near the main gate. 

To all the questions asked by the curious 
beggars and passers-by they only answered, 
“The king has ordered it.” 


50 


THE MARBLE SPOUT 


51 



Soon the “H” appeared beside it 


When night came and the men went home, 
there was a large smooth hole in the palace 
wall, and the people wondered more and more. 

The next morning another set of work¬ 
men appeared. They brought with them a large 
marble spout, which they fastened into the hole 
with strong white cement. 

Then these men also went away, and soon 
after another man came alone. He carried a 








52 


HOMESPUN STORIES 


sharp instrument and a mallet, and, after much 
measuring around the spout, he began to cut 
into the wall just above it. Then, after a while, 
the wondering people saw that he had cut the 
letter “W” in the wall; soon the letter “h” ap¬ 
peared beside it, and by and by the word 
“When” stood plainly carved on the wall. 
Then the man went home and left the people 
more curious than ever as they repeated that one 
word, “When,” to one another. 

Then next day the same things happened. 
The man worked faithfully, the crowd watched 
patiently, letter by letter, and word by word. 
By and by these were the words that stared from 
the wall; 

“When the palace clock strikes twelve.” 

Then the people looked at each other and 
their eyes said, “What will happen then?” 




THE MARBLE SPOUT 


53 


“Then we shall all be killed,” whispered 
someone hoarsely, “it is the new king.” 

The whisper ran through the crowd, and 
the people were so frightened they forgot to 
watch the next letter—an “m”—that was form¬ 
ing under the man’s sharp tool. 

“Look at the clock,” called someone in a 
loud voice; for this palace clock, like many 
others in large towns, struck the noon hour 
only. 

Every pair of eyes turned to the great dial, 
and in another instant every pair of heels was 
flying away from the palace wall, for the hands 
of the clock pointed to half-past eleven, and if 
they were to be killed at twelve, they had but 
half an hour left to save their necks. 

The man, glad to be alone, worked on 
steadily, and when, near the close of the day, 




54 


HOMESPUN STORIES 


he took off his dust-covered apron, these were 
the words that ran around the marble spout; 
“When the palace clock strikes twelve, milk will 
flow from this spout for all the poor people who 
will come after it. By order of King Kynde- 
heart. 

Just as the early dawn was lighting the 
beautiful hills of Mabiseau, one young beggar, 
bolder than the rest, came within sight of the 
palace. He saw no soldiers waiting to kill him 
and his companions, so he kept on approaching 
the palace walls, growing bolder with every 
step. At last he stood near enough to the 
marble spout to make out the sentence above 
it. He jumped up and down and hugged him¬ 
self for joy. He read the words over and over 
until he knew them by heart, then away he 




THE MARBLE SPOUT 


55 


went to rouse his companions from their 
troubled slumbers. 

Long before the noon hour the beggars 
gathered around the marble spout in so great 
a throng that the king, who watched them from 
the palace windows, groaned as he saw them. 
Every man, woman and child carried a jug or 
pitcher, and some carried two. When the king 
saw the poor wretches going away with the 
full pitchers, he smiled with pleasure; but, alas! 
his smiles were short-lived, for, when the flow 
of milk ceased there was still a large company 
of beggars standing about, whose pitchers 
were all empty. 

Then he called for his Lord High Cham¬ 
berlain and ordered that more cows be milked. 
“But, your majesty,” was the reply, “every cow 
in the stables has been milked dry.” 




56 


HOMESPUN STORIES 


“Then,” exclaimed the king in great anger, 
“go and buy more cows, for these poor 
wretches must have milk.” 

The next day the milk flowed on as if it 
would never cease, and the king thought; 

“Surely there will be no empty pitchers 
now.” 

But, alas! when the last drop had run out 
of the marble spout, there were still many 
empty pitchers. 

Then the king’s order of the previous day 
was repeated, and again the milk flowed longer 
than before; but it was still the same old story 
—always many hapless beggars standing about 
with empty pitchers. 

As the number of cows grew larger and 
the quantity of milk greater, the crowds of 




THE MARBLE SPOUT 


57 


beggars seemed to increase also, until it 
seemed as if the whole land of Mabiseau was 
clamoring for milk before that marble spout. 

Outside the palace gates the people com¬ 
plained because there was not milk enough; 
inside they complained, because there was no 
time for anything but milking and feeding 
cows. 

One day the Lord High Chamberlain 
came to the king with a very grave face and 
said, 

“Your majesty, your milk law must be re¬ 
pealed, for there is not another cow to be 
bought in all the land of Mabiseau.” 

“Have you forgotten,” said the king, “that 
a law once made in Mabiseau stands forever? 
We must have more cows, see that the ships 
are manned and prepared for sea. I, myself 




58 


HOMESPUN STORIES 


will sail to other countries and return with so 
many cows that every inhabitant of Mabiseau 
shall have all the milk he or she wants.” 

In a few days the fleet sailed away with 
drums beating and banners flying, while the 
beggars on shore—for they had been told of 
the king’s mission—cheered themselves hoarse 
and waved their ragged hats and bonnets until 
the vessels were out of sight. 

Days dragged into weeks and weeks into 
months, but the king did not return. The milk 
still flowed from the spout, and the crowds 
wrangled and fought over it, sometimes hurting 
each other in their struggles to be first at the 
spout. 

Murmurings grew louder and louder 
through the land and the Lord High Cham¬ 
berlain was half crazed with fear and anxiety. 





A wonderful idea came to the Lord High Chamberlain 


59 









60 


HOMESPUN STORIES 


One day as he sat lost in thought over the ter¬ 
rible state of affairs, a wonderful idea came to 
him. 

“I’ll do it,” he said, jumping up and walk¬ 
ing about his room in great joy. 

As soon as it was dark, he wrapped him¬ 
self in a long cloak, put a mask on his face, 
and taking a stout stick in his hand, walked 
away toward the city. Just before midnight 
he returned, and with him was a bent old man 
carrying a small tool-box. All that night and 
the next day until dark the little old man was 
hidden in the palace. No one saw him, or 
knew that he was there, except the Lord High 
Chamberlain. 

The next day the palace clock began to 
strike as usual in its slow measured way, and the 
people counted the strokes aloud as had become 




THE MARBLE SPOUT 


61 


their custom. When the twelfth peal sounded, 
the crowd surged forward, for that was the sig¬ 
nal for the milk to flow. But lo! there came an¬ 
other clang of the bell, and the clock had struck 
thirteen, and there was no milk pouring its white 
sweetness out of the marble spout. Then a great 
cry arose from the people, but the Lord High 
Chamberlain quickly mounted the top of the 
wall and spoke to them thus; 

“You know, my friends, the people of 
Mabiseau always obey the laws even to the 
last letter. As soon as the clock strikes twelve 
again, you will find the milk coming out of 
the spout as usual; but meanwhile, go to your 
homes and wait quietly until it is time for the 
clock to strike again.” 

So the people obeyed and went home 
quietly, but returned the following day and 




62 


HOMESPUN STORIES 


waited before the marble spout. This they did 
many days, but the clock still continued strik¬ 
ing thirteen, and the king was still unheard 
from. 

Then the Lord High Chamberlain, watch¬ 
ing always from his palace windows, saw with 
joy that the crowd of beggars daily grew smaller. 

He sent trusty messengers to inquire into 
the matter and learned that the beggars had 
found work and therefore no longer needed 
the gift of milk. So the cows were taken from 
the stables and driven away, a few at a time, 
into the country and given to poor men with 
families. At last there were only two blind, old 
beggars left at the gate, and these the Lord 
High Chamberlain sent into the country to be 
cared for as long as they lived. 




THE MARBLE SPOUT 


63 


But one day, amid the sweet peace and con¬ 
tentment which now reigned throughout Mabi- 
seau, a messenger came running to the Lord 
High Chamberlain, saying, 

“The king and his fleet are sailing into the 
bay.” The poor man’s heart was full of mis¬ 
givings. “Now,” he said, “all my work will be 
undone.” Nevertheless, he put on his robes 
of state and, accompanied by the whole court, 
went forth in great pomp to meet the king. 

When they approached the shore, the Lord 
High Chamberlain nearly wept with fear for 
he expected the air would be rent with the bel¬ 
lowing of cows and the bleating of calves. 
But he heard instead the beating of drums and 
the blaring of trumpets. When at last the 
king’s ship touched the pier and he walked 
down the plank the Lord High Chamberlain 




64 


HOMESPUN STORIES 



In one hand an ax, in the other a saw and hammer 

saw that he carried in one hand an ax, in the 
other a saw and a hammer. 

When the king had embraced the Lord 
High Chamberlain he turned to his court and 
said, 

“I have learned much since I left you. I 
have been to a country where no man is given 




THE MARBLE SPOUT 


65 


anything unless he is sick, or aged, where 
every man must work for what he has. My 
ships are loaded with saws, hammers and axes, 
which I will sell to my people, and I have 
brought men with me who will teach them how 
to use them.” 

When the Lord High Chamberlain and 
the king were alone in the king’s private rooms, 
the Lord High Chamberlain told him the story 
of the clock. 

The king looked at him with a twinkle 
in his eye. 

“Ah,” he said, “thine is a wise head! and 
thirteen is a lucky number for the people of 
this land.” 

But did they leave the marble spout there 
always? and did the clock go on striking thir¬ 
teen forever? you ask. Well, “maybe so.” 





The Giant knocked over houses 


THE GOLDEN LOCKS 

/V GREAT many years ago, long before 
even your great-grandparents were born, 
there was situated in one of the most beautiful 
corners of the earth a country called Heartland. 

It had once been governed by a wise and 
good fairy king, and he had placed a strange 
enchantment upon the people. 


66 








Golden hair that was wonderful in its brightness 


67 























68 


HOMESPUN STORIES 


By this enchantment every person cast a 
shadow, not according to his, or her, size, but 
in proportion to the amount of selfishness in 
his or her heart. 

So, if anyone could have been found whose 
heart was absolutely unselfish, that person 
would have been entirely without a shadow. 

This, therefore, was the great aim of 
everyone in Heartland—to become so full of 
love for others that they would be known by 
all the world as “the person without a shadow.” 

But, as you will see, this very aspiration 
savored of selfishness and so stood in the way 
of its own accomplishment. 

Thus, no one ever quite reached the de¬ 
sired point, for the people of Heartland were 
just like the people of today, who find it im- 




THE GOLDEN LOCKS 


69 


possible to say of any action, “There is no self 
here.” 

There was one maiden, however, whose 
shadow was merely a rim of white light, for 
she had come very near to absolute self-forget¬ 
fulness. 

This maiden, whose name was Stella, was 
very beautiful, and she was also crowned by 
golden hair that was wonderful in its bright¬ 
ness and abundance. 

When she let it fall about her in its shin¬ 
ing waves, it made the darkness radiant, for the 
light from it was like the light of a thousand 
blazing lamps. 

Stella was proud of her hair, far too proud, 
she well knew, and she tried with all her might 
to forget its beauty, but she could not. 

Sometimes, when she combed it, she would 




70 


HOMESPUN STORIES 


sit for hours, gazing at its wondrous shining, 
thus forgetting the other and more important 
duties. 

Then, a chance glance over her shoulder 
would show her that her shadow had grown 
larger and darker, and she would quickly put 
up her hair, while sorrow would take the place 
of pride in her heart. 

In another corner of the earth, far away 
from Heartland, lived a big, bad, black ogre. 

He had long been the terror of his own 
land, for I cannot begin to tell you of all the 
wicked deeds he had done. 

But one day he felt a sudden contempt 
for his native country, and decided that he 
would journey abroad. 

“I will travel and conquer the whole 
world, for wherever I go men flee from before 
me,” he said to himself. 




THE GOLDEN LOCKS 


71 


And he spoke the truth. 

So he journeyed far and wide, spreading 
death and desolation in his path. 

One day he came to the borders of Heart¬ 
land. 

He knew nothing of the strange law that 
governed this country, so he went on, full of 
confidence in himself, and happily crossed the 
boundary line. 

But alas! as he was very big, and also 
cared for no one in all the world but himself, 
darkness immediately reigned for miles around. 

So black was this sudden shadow that even 
the ogre could not see where he went. 

But he kept on in his blind gropings, 
often knocking against houses and hurting 
himself, as well as other people. 




72 


HOMESPUN STORIES 


Sometimes, indeed, when the houses were 
small, he would upset them entirely. 

Little he cared for the hurts of others, 
however, as day after day went on, and by 
reason of the continued darkness, he met with 
many unpleasant accidents, he began to grow 
angry. 

Then the howls of rage that he set up 
shook the very hills that were miles away. 

Of course the poor people of Heartland 
were full of fear at the presence of this terrible 
creature, but there was no way to capture him, 
on account of the darkness that surrounded 
him. Thus, you see, his very wickedness pro¬ 
tected him. 

But one day the ruler of Heartland felt a 
new and bright idea tingling through his brain. 




THE GOLDEN LOCKS 


73 


“We will send for Stella,” he said to 
himself. 

So a carriage was sent to Stella’s house and 
she was asked to visit the ruler in his palace. 

As soon as she came into his presence he 
said to her, 

“I want to send a band of strong men to 
capture the wicked ogre. I might also send 
torch bearers, but you know very well that 
their flames are mere flickers when compared 
with the flames from your golden locks. If 
you will walk near the head of the column, 
with your bright hair hanging like a robe 
about you, all will be as light as day and they 
will have no trouble in finding the ogre, and 
having found him they will soon destroy him, 
for I will send brave and strong men.” 




74 


HOMESPUN STORIES 


When the ruler paused, Stella was silent 
and stood before him with downcast eyes. 

Seeing her hesitation he hastened to say; 

“You need have no fear, no harm will 
come to you.” 

Then Stella looked up and a brave look 
passed over her face. 

“It is not that,” she said, “I know I shall 
be safe; but it is enough, I will go with your 
men.” 

Then everything was carefully prepared 
and Stella, at the head of the column, with her 
glorious hair falling about her like a garment of 
sunshine, walked serenely forward, while in the 
distance they heard the howls of the ogre. 

Nearer and nearer they came to him, 
while he, seeing the approach of the wonderful 
light, thought the day was breaking at last, 




THE GOLDEN LOCKS 


75 


and he stood still, waiting for its coming, that 
he might once more walk in peace and safety. 

But the light grew brighter so rapidly 
that, when Stella and the men came nearer, his 
long shrouded eyes were blinded by the sudden 
blaze of glory. 

He heard, however, the tramp of many 
feet, and so, suspecting that an army had come 
to capture him or kill him, he was filled with 
a mad rage. 

He knew that he must protect himself, but 
as he could see but dimly, he threw out his 
mighty arms toward the spot whence the light 
seemed to radiate. 

Instantly a dozen men sprang forward 
with their axes. 

But they were not quick enough, for his 
huge hand had caught Stella’s golden hair, and 




76 


HOMESPUN STORIES 


with one powerful wrench, as if his hand had 
been a mighty pair of sharp scissors, the flow¬ 
ing locks were severed. 

Like a flash the men sprang at the 
wretched ogre, and in a few moments he was 
beyond harming anyone ever again. 

Then these brave men began to look 
around for Stella. 

They found her sitting unharmed beneath 
a tree, her beautiful face radiant with smiles. 

“It is gone,” she said, putting her hand to 
her head, where the short hair was like a halo, 
“and I am glad, I loved it too well. I was very 
near refusing to come with you, because I 
feared my golden locks would be rumpled or 
soiled, but it is gone and my country is saved 
from the wicked ogre.” 




THE GOLDEN LOCKS 


77 


Then she arose, and lo! those who stood 
near her saw that her slight form cast not even 
the faintest shadow. 

But she, thinking only of her country and 
its glad deliverance, knew not that she had 
reached the height of honor in Heartland, but 
walked away, unattended, to her humble home. 

The men buried the ogre at once, and each 
one of them took a lock of the golden hair 
that lay strewn over the ground, and bore it 
ever about him as a talisman. 

But the maiden never either asked or heard 
what became of it. 

It is said that this ogre was the last of his 
race, and so w e may thank Stella of the “golden 
locks” that we need no longer fear these strange 
and terrible beings. 





He tried to get it off, but he couldn’t move it 


THE SILENCER 

J OHNNIE READ was lonesome. His 
mother had gone to market, saying to him 
as she left the house, 

“Now, be a good boy, Johnnie, and stay 
with Bridget.” 


78 



THE SILENCER 


79 


But how could he stay with her when she 
said, “Please go away, you talk so much that 
you stop my work.” 

“It’s not right for you to always say that, 
Bridget,” corrected Johnnie, in his most dig¬ 
nified manner, “in the first place I couldn’t do 
it, and in the second place there are your two 
arms kneading bread as hard as ever they can.” 

“Well, go away and talk to someone else,” 
said Bridget impatiently. 

“That’s just what I’ll do,” said Johnnie to 
himself, as he went sulkily out of doors, “I’ll 
go off and hunt up some one to talk to.” 

He stood a moment on the sidewalk look¬ 
ing up and down the street. “I’ll go to the 
park,” he said at last, “there are always lots of 
men sitting on the benches, and they look really 
lonesome sometimes. I expect most any of them 




80 


HOMESPUN STORIES 


will be glad to have me talk to them.” 

After this very wise decision he set out for 
the park. It was quite near, but as he was very 
anxious to find someone to talk to, he ran along 
as fast as he could. In less than three minutes, 
he had turned the corner, crossed the street and 
was walking under the beautiful trees of the 
park, looking around for the men who were 
usually lolling on the benches. But it was quite 
early in the morning and not a person was to 
be seen. 

So Johnnie walked on and on. It was 
very cool and pleasant there and the birds sang 
so delightfully, that he almost forgot why he 
had run away. By and by he came to a beauti¬ 
ful grotto built around a drinking fountain. 
Then all at once he was very thirsty, but the 
fountain was beyond his reach. 




THE SILENCER 


81 


“I’ll rest on this rustic seat opposite,” he 
thought, “and wait until someone bigger than 
I am comes along. Then I’ll ask him to help 
me get a drink.” 

The rustic chair was very comfortable, and 
Johnnie had walked a long distance, but sud¬ 
denly he forgot all about his thirst, for right in 
front of him he saw a little red door in the 
grotto, and on it was a sign in big black letters, 
which said, 

“TALKING BY THE YARD. OR¬ 
DERS FILLED ON SHORT NOTICE.” 

“Oho!” said Johnnie, jumping quickly out 
of the chair. “That’s the place for me, and, of 
course, they’ll pay anyone to do talking for 
them. How jolly! my, but I’m glad I hap¬ 
pened around here!” 

He ran across the graveled driveway and 




82 


HOMESPUN STORIES 


knocked boldly on the little red door. In a 
minute it flew open, and there stood a short, 
fat old man with a funny face. 

“Well,” he said quickly, “how many yards 
do you want to buy, and what must they be 
about?” 

“I don’t want to buy,” said Johnnie, 
quickly, “but I like to talk, and I thought if 
you had many orders I could help you fill 
them.” 

“So!” said the old man, looking a little 
funnier than before, “come in.” 

Johnnie went into a dark little room, and 
the man said, 

“Well, now what can you talk about?” 

“Oh, most anything,” said Johnnie, 
proudly. Then he suddenly remembered that 
men always fixed prices before they began to 





He knocked boldly on the little door 


83 


































































































































84 


HOMESPUN STORIES 


work, so he said in a very grave and business¬ 
like manner, 

“What do you pay a yard for talk?” 

At this the little fat man burst into a merry 
fit of laughter, and Johnnie stood staring at 
him wondering what there was so funny in that 
simple question. At last the old man stopped 
his laughing. 

“Well, my little fellow,” he said, trying 
hard to maintain a serious look, though his 
face was still puckered in many wrinkles of 
fun, “we pay one cent for a hundred yards.” 

“Oh,” said Johnnie, looking thoughtful, 
“that isn’t much.” 

“Of course not,” was the answer, “haven’t 
you ever heard that talk is cheap?” 

Johnnie admitted quite humbly that he had 
heard something of that kind. 




THE SILENCER 


85 


“Well, do you suppose you can get rich at 
that price, one cent a hundred yards?” 

“I don’t know, but I’ll try,” was Johnnie’s 
brave reply. “I like to talk better than anything 
else, and I can do a lot of it in a minute.” 

“All right,” said the man, “but wait until 
I fix the lingnicator,” and he placed a queer 
looking machine very close to Johnnie’s face. 

“What’s that?” said the little boy, in a 
scared voice, although he couldn’t have told 
which frightened him most, the long formid¬ 
able name of the machine, or the machine itself, 
for it was a queer-looking thing. It had a big, 
black funnel on top of it, and the man by turn¬ 
ing some screws, lowered this funnel, until it 
was just on a level with Johnnie’s mouth. 

“Now,” he said, “the sound waves from 
your voice will run down this funnel and set in 






86 


HOMESPUN STORIES 


motion a little wheel, which sets in motion a 
larger wheel. Around the large wheel is a 
yard of tape, when it is unwound the wheel 
takes it up and winds it on again. Each time 
the tape is wound and unwound the hands in 
front of the machine register two. When it 
counts up to a hundred, that means you have 
talked a hundred yards, and then a little bell 
will ring, so now, talk away!” 

Johnnie talked as fast as his little red 
tongue could fly, and pretty soon he heard the 
faint ting-a-ling of the bell. 

“Good,” he said to himself, “and of course 
the faster I talk, the faster the sound waves will 
come, and the faster the two wheels will turn, 
winding and unwinding the yard of tape, and 
the sooner the little bell will go ting-a-ling.” 

So he set his tongue flying, and was just 




THE SILENCER 


87 


thinking that the bell ought to ring again pretty 
soon, when suddenly he felt something soft 
pressed firmly against his jaws, and he couldn’t 
utter a word. He put his hands to his face and 
found a vise-like thing holding his jaws to¬ 
gether. He tried to get it off, but he couldn’t 
move it. He turned around and there stood the 
little man laughing at him. 

“Do you like it?” he asked. 

Johnnie shook his head and motioned to 
him to take it off. 

“Do you see that sign up there?” asked the 
man, pointing to the wall. 

Johnnie looked and read in big black let¬ 
ters these words, 

“SILENCERS FOR SALE, WAR¬ 
RANTED TO STICK.” 

“You see,” said the keeper of the “talk 




88 


HOMESPUN STORIES 


shop,” “I sell those things to put on people who 
talk without saying anything. Now, you have 
talked nearly two hundred yards and you 
haven’t said anything. When I buy talk, I buy 
the kind that has something in besides noise 
and a lot of words.” 

Johnnie looked as if he were going to cry 
and he put his hands on the silencer and tried 
to get it off. 

“Oh, you needn’t try that sort of thing,” 
said the little man, “don’t you see what the sign 
says, ‘Warranted to stick?’ It fastens in a 
secret way, and no one can possibly get it un¬ 
fastened, unless he knows the trick.” 

Two big tears stood in Johnnie’s eyes, and 
he motioned as fast as he could to have the 
silencer taken off, but the man frowned harder 
than ever. 




THE SILENCER 


89 


“You say you like to talk, what for? Just 
to hear the sound of your own voice? The 
silencer is to quiet that kind of people. I in¬ 
vented it myself when I had a relative living 
with me who talked from morning until night 
about nothing. So I used to clap this on his 
jaws when I couldn’t stand it any longer and 
then we’d have peace for a while. Oh, I tell 
you, the ‘silencers’ are great things. I sell more 
of them than I do of the talk, because I find that 
there are ten people who can gabble, gabble 
all day long where there is one who can keep 
silent.” 

As the little man paused Johnnie again 
made wild motions to have the silencer re¬ 
moved. 

“Well,” the man said, “before I unfasten 
the thing you must make two promises.” 




90 


HOMESPUN STORIES 


Johnnie was by this time ready to promise 
anything, so he nodded with all his might. 

“First, you must never, on any account, 
talk, unless you have something to say, do you 
promise that?” 

Johnnie nodded as hard as before. 

“Secondly, you must keep silent four times 
as much as you talk.” 

Johnnie looked bewildered. 

“That is, if you talk fifteen minutes you 
must keep silent an hour. If you talk five min¬ 
utes, you must be silent twenty, understand?” 

Johnnie nodded slowly. 

“Now, if you are ready to promise that, 
I’ll take the silencer off.” 

Johnnie didn’t nod; the latter promise 
seemed a pretty hard one to make. He thought 




THE SILENCER 


91 


of all the long silent minutes, and it did not 
please him; he did so like to talk. 

“Oh, well,” said the little man, turning 
away, “I see you don’t want—” 

Johnnie began to be scared; he thought 
the old man was going away, and would leave 
him with that horrible thing gripping at his 
jaws. He tried to cry out, to say that he would 
promise anything that was required, if the man 
would only let him go. 

“Hello there! is that you, Johnnie Read? 
What are you doing here at this time of day?” 

Johnnie gave a great jump, and there right 
beside him on the graveled way, was a horse 
and buggy, and in the buggy was Mr. Jones, 
who lived next door to Johnnie. 

“Been taking a nap in the shade?” 
asked Mr. Jones kindly, “Well jump into the 




92 


HOMESPUN STORIES 


buggy, I’ll give you a little ride and then take 
you home.” 

“I think I’d like a drink first, if you please, 
Mr. Jones.” 

“All right, I’ll have one too, and so will the 
pony,” said Mr. Jones, climbing out of the 
buggy. 

While Johnnie was drinking he looked 
over the rim of the cup at the grotto, but though 
he searched the stones carefully, there was no 
trace of the little red door. 

“ ’Twas just a dream,” he said to himself 
bravely, “I’m not afraid of his old silencer.” 

But all the same, it set him to thinking. 
He wondered if the little old man wasn’t right, 
and, after that day, people said, “What a nice, 
quiet boy Johnnie Read is! he doesn’t say much, 
but when he does talk he always talks sensibly.” 





THE GNOME KING 

r I ''HE king of the gnomes was dead, and 
great indeed was the sorrow throughout 
Gnomeland, for there was no one to take his 
place. 

Gnomeland was a deep, mossy dell, where 


93 


94 


HOMESPUN STORIES 


a stream of clear, cold water trickled all day 
long. 

It was a law among the gnomes that when 
a king died another could not be crowned un¬ 
til the clover was in blossom, for every gnome 
who longed for the crown, was forced to go 
skipping over the nearest field of clover, touch¬ 
ing every blossom with his feet. As soon as 
one of the gnomes succeeded in doing this 
without making a single one of the blossoms 
bend down, that gnome was immediately car¬ 
ried away by the judges who were with him, 
and proclaimed king. 

But although the latest king had died in 
early spring-time and the clover was now in 
full bloom, a new king had not yet been 
crowned. 

The gnomes everywhere were complaining 




THE GNOME KING 


95 


because they had no king, and the prime min¬ 
ister was growing very tired of bearing all 
the burden of the government, without either 
receiving the salary or the honor belonging 
thereto. Meanwhile, time was speeding away, 
the clover daily grew riper, and soon the time 
for the trials would be over, for those dreadful 
creatures called man would come with their 
noise and destruction, and cut down the fra¬ 
grant red blossoms. 

So, the prime minister grew daily more 
and more anxious, for he was very unwilling 
to go on governing Gnomeland for another 
whole year. 

By and by the bumble-bee came flying to 
the gates of Gnomeland with this message; 

“In two days the clover is to be cut. If you 
do not choose your king before then, you will 




96 


HOMESPUN STORIES 


never have him for the Brownies have heard of 
your trouble and they are coming to take pos¬ 
session of this mossy dell and to drive you deep 
into the center of the earth, where you belong.” 

There was one gnome more swift and agile 
than the others, and he wanted very much to 
be king. But, even he, in going over the clover 
several times, had failed to win the crown. 

It was true, at his third attempt, only one 
clover blossom had bent beneath his weight, but 
even that slight movement destroyed his chance 
of being king. 

This gnome had a loving little sister who 
was greatly grieved at her brother’s failure, 
and when she heard the bumble-bee’s message 
she set her wits at work to help her brother. 

As soon as the sun was down—for gnomes 
cannot leave home until then—she set out to 





He wanted very much to be king 


97 

































98 


HOMESPUN STORIES 


visit her great-great-grandmother, who lived in 
an old acorn cup by herself, and who was very, 
very wise. 

The little sister told the sad story of her 
brother’s failure and disappointment, and 
begged that something might be done to help 
him step lightly enough on the clover blossoms. 

“If you will let me live in the palace when 
your brother is made king and give me two 
drops of honey every day for my dinner I will 
help you,” said the great-great-grandmother 
gnome. 

Of course the promise was quickly given, 
and then, this wonderful secret was whispered 
to the little sister. 

“If you can catch the first tear shed by 
a mortal babe, bring it quickly and rub it on 
your brother’s feet. He then need have no fear 




THE GNOME KING 


99 


of shaking the clover blossoms, they will not 
feel his weight.” 

Away sped the little sister gnome to the 
home of mortals, listening at every door for the 
sound of a baby’s cry, but wherever she went, 
for many long hours, the babies were peace¬ 
fully sleeping. 

Her heart was heavy, and she was begin¬ 
ning to despair, but as she was about to turn 
away from a door at which she had long been 
listening she heard that eagerly-wished-for 
sound, a faint and plaintive wail. 

In a moment she had sailed through the 
key-hole and was hovering over the baby’s 
head. 

Then she heard the baby’s father say im¬ 
patiently; 

“That child is cross.” “No. no.” said the 
mother gently, “he feels bad somewhere, poor 




100 HOMESPUN STORIES 



The little sister gnome caught it up so quickly 


little darling; see, here is a tear, the first one 
he has ever shed.” 

She took her handkerchief to wipe the tear 
away, but the little sister gnome caught it up so 
quickly on the end of the invisible spear she 
had brought with her that the mother thought 
her own hand had wiped it off. 

The next night a new king was crowned 
in Gnomeland, and the great-great-grand- 
mother gnome had all the honey she could eat 
until she died, and was buried in her acorn cup 
deep, deep in the center of the earth. 





























THE ACCIDENTAL CANDY 


NCE upon a time there was a beautiful 



little princess who loved to cook. Mother 
Queen and Father King thought she was very 
foolish to go pottering around at work of that 


kind. 


“Princesses don’t need to cook,” said the 
Queen. 

“But there might be a revolution some 
day,” replied the Princess, “and then I should 
no longer be a Princess, so it would be very 
nice to know how to cook. I might earn a liv¬ 
ing that way for you and Father King.” 

Then the King who had laid off his crown, 
and was dozing in his easy chair, woke up 
suddenly. 


101 


102 


HOMESPUN STORIES 


“What nonsense you are talking!” he said 
half angrily, “ there can never be a revolution 
here, my people are too loyal; besides, if there 
should such a thing happen, I have plenty of 
diamonds laid away,” and he winked his left 
eye slyly at the Queen, which was quite undig¬ 
nified, especially in a King. 

However, in spite of all their talk, the little 
Princess kept on going to the kitchen. She 
bothered the servants a good deal, of course, 
but they were afraid to be cross to her, for who 
would dare to scold a Princess, but they did 
scold about her a great deal to the royal head 
cook, who was a man. 

So, one day, when the Princess had spent 
the whole forenoon in the kitchen, and turned 
out the electric lights twice when they wanted 
them burning, and filled every pan and basin 




THE ACCIDENTAL CANDY 


103 


and dish with her messes, the royal head cook 
went to the King, and said that, unless the Prin¬ 
cess was kept out of the kitchen he should leave 
“without warning.” 

So the law was laid down and the poor 
little Princess had to submit. She cried one 
whole day about it, and then she suddenly had 
an idea that gave her much comfort. 

“I will go into the palace library,” she said 
to herself, “and I will hunt up all the old cook¬ 
books and learn all the nice recipes, then if 
there should come a revolution, I can ,try them. 
Father’s diamonds may be stolen, but no one 
can steal away what I put into my head.” 

So this sensible little Princess now hung 
around the library just as she had hung around 
the kitchen, and the whole court was happy 
over the change, for no one wanted to lose the 




104 


HOMESPUN STORIES 


royal head cook. 

One day, as the Princess was studying a 
velvet-bound cook-book, she came upon a 
candy recipe which caught her fancy at once. 

“I can almost taste that,” she said as she 
smacked her lips. Then she could think of 
nothing else but her desire to make it. She 
dropped the book on the floor, and said to her¬ 
self, over and over, “Oh, if I only could make 
that!” 

All sorts of schemes went through her 
head. She thought of selling all her toys, her 
dogs, her ponies and her clothes and taking the 
money to buy a little kitchen all of her own. 
But who would buy her things? The people 
who would be glad to own them, hadn’t the 
money, and the people who had the money 
wouldn’t want her old things, nor the pets 




THE ACCIDENTAL CANDY 


105 


and animals that were spoiled by her indul¬ 
gence. 

She couldn’t go out and rent someone’s 
kitchen, for she was never allowed to go out¬ 
doors without the royal head-nurse; and the 
royal head-nurse always took her two assistants, 
and each of the two assistants took her two 
second assistants, and each of the two second 
assistants took her two pages, and each of the 
two pages took two lackeys and each of the two 
lackeys took two “buttons,” and each of the two 
“buttons” took two runners. So how could she 
wander around through the town with all this 
train stopping at all the houses to ask, “Have 
you a kitchen for rent?” But, at last, as a re¬ 
ward for all her thinking, a daring plan came 
into her mind. 

Early the next morning, long before a soul 




106 


HOMESPUN STORIES 


in the palace was awake, the Princess slipped 
out of her elegant bed, and, feeling around in 
the dark, found some of her clothes and got 
into them as best she could. As she had never 
dressed herself before in her life, she didn’t 
make a very neat job of it, but that didn’t 
trouble her at all. Then, still in the dark, she 
hurried down to the kitchen—she knew the way 
so well. 

When she was safely in the dear, delightful 
room, she turned on the electric lights. She 
knew more about them than she did about dress¬ 
ing herself. The first thing that caught her eye 
was a sauce-pan standing on the range, and 
into this she quickly put the stuff for her candy. 
When it was all cooked she turned it out on 
a buttered plate, and then put it in the refrig¬ 
erator to cool. In a few minutes she took it 
out and broke off a little piece to eat. 





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The princess in the library 


107 























































































108 


HOMESPUN STORIES 


But, lo! it tasted of chocolate. Now the 
Princess liked chocolate very much, but she 
knew she hadn’t put any into that candy. She 
caught up the empty saucepan and looked at 
it sharply, then she understood. The chocolate 
for the royal supper the night before had been 
cooked in that saucepan, and the lazy dish¬ 
washer had neglected it and left it standing on 
the range with the dregs of the chocolate in it. 

“Why, it’s chocolate candy!” she said to 
herself, “and none of the books tell about that. 
I’ve made a—what is it? Oh I know—a dis¬ 
covery. How fine that is, a discovery by a Prin¬ 
cess! But I’ll put it back in the refrigerator 
to get a little harder, then I’ll carry it upstairs.” 

Just as she closed the door of the refrig¬ 
erator, she heard a footfall on the back stairs. 
She knew that step, it was the royal head-cook! 




THE ACCIDENTAL CANDY 


109 


Like a flash she went out of the kitchen, but 
in spite of her quickness, as the royal head- 
cook came in at the other door he caught a 
glimpse of her flying white skirts. 

“Umph!” he said, “disobeyed the royal 
command! what kind of a mess has she been 
making now, I wonder.” 

Then he sniffed and sniffed the fragrant 
air of the room, took up the saucepan and 
sniffed at that, and finally he opened the door 
of the refrigerator, then he stopped sniffing and 
began eating. 

“Ah!” he thought, “if I could make such 
candy as that, I shouldn’t need to work any 
more, even for a king. I wonder if she’ll tell 
me how she made it. But,—ah! I know a better 
way. I’ll take it to my friend the chemist, and 
he will tell me exactly what is in it. Then, 
when I put it on the market, the Princess will 




110 


HOMESPUN STORIES 


never dare tell all she knows about it,” and he 
chuckled softly. 

It was not long before everyone was buy¬ 
ing and praising the new chocolate candy, and 
the royal head-cook was no longer a cook, but 
was rich and famous. He was so false and de¬ 
ceitful that he even allowed the king to knight 
him for the discovery of chocolate candy. 

The poor little princess knew it was her 
discovery, but she hadn’t been taught as you 
have that half the sting is taken from wrong¬ 
doing when we “own up.” So she kept still 
and let the bad cook have all the glory. That 
was the price she paid for her disobedience. 

So just how chocolate candy was dis¬ 
covered has never been revealed until now, and 
you must remember it is a great secret. 

How did I find out about it? 

Oh! that’s another and still greater secret, 
and one that I cannot reveal even to you. 





A deer looked from the thicket 


111 





A beautiful bird on a low limb 

ALONE IN THE FOREST 


r HE way through the woods was long and 
lonely, besides the young man, who was 
all alone in the world, was very hungry. 


112 


ALONE IN THE FOREST 


113 


“I have a gun on my shoulder, and some 
matches in my pocket,” was his thought, “and 
if I see a creature that is good to eat, I will 
surely shoot it and have a good meal.” 

Presently, as if in answer to this decision, 
a large and beautiful bird lit on a low limb a 
few yards ahead of him. He brought his gun 
off his shoulder and took aim at the bird, but it 
sat quite still and seemed to have no thought 
of danger. 

“You are too beautiful to shoot,” said the 
young man aloud. Then he lifted the gun to 
his shoulder again and stood staring at the bird 
until, after a few minutes, it flew away. 

“I shall surely pass out of the woods before 
long, and then I may come to a farmhouse 
where I can buy a good meal,” said the young 
man to himself, consolingly. 




114 


HOMESPUN STORIES 


He went on a little while, but the woods 
seemed to grow deeper and thicker, while his 
hunger every moment grew sharper. Presently 
a large hare sat up directly in front of him 
and seemed to ask what he was doing there in 
the woods. 

“Ah!” thought the young man, smacking 
his lips, “how good you would taste roasted,” 
and he brought his gun from his shoulder 
again. As he was about to take aim he saw the 
rabbit’s mate draw near and she was followed 
by some little ones. 

“If I shoot you,” he said aloud, “then all 
these others will be lonely.” For the second 
time he returned his gun to his shoulder and 
continued his solitary walk, wondering more 
and more, how much longer he could endure 
his hunger. 




ALONE IN THE FOREST 


115 


He tried to whistle and then to sing hoping 
thereby to forget his misery, but it was no use, 
his dry throat and lips could make no sound. 
After he had walked on thus silently for a long 
time, he suddenly saw a pair of large dark eyes 
gazing at him from a thicket. He stood still 
for the eyes seemed human, then he noticed the 
antlers above the eyes and his heart lightened. 

“It’s a fine fat deer,” he thought and he 
took down his gun. But as he took aim at the 
animal’s forehead, he noticed how sad were 
the eyes. 

“I wonder if you are as sad as I?” was his 
half spoken thought. “Perhaps you have never 
been happy, then I must let you live until you 
have tasted all the joys which a deer’s life can 
give.” 

So, for the third time, he put up his gun. 




116 


HOMESPUN STORIES 


It then occurred to him that the day must be 
drawing near its end. 

“I am so tired that I can no longer hurry, 
and I fear night will overtake me in these deep 
woods unless I do hurry, so perhaps my best 
move will be to lie down and rest; when I 
awake I can go on swiftly, for I am indeed 
afraid to spend the night in this wild place.” 

So as he came at that moment to a smooth, 
grassy place he lay down with his head pil¬ 
lowed on his arm, and was soon sound asleep. 

He knew not how long he slept, but sud¬ 
denly felt wide awake, for there, directly in 
front of him, was the beautiful bird that he had 
seen on the limb. 

“You spared my life,” piped the bird, “now 
make a wish.” 

“I wish,” he returned, with the thought of 




ALONE IN THE FOREST 


117 


the black forest in his mind, “for a brave and 
fearless heart.” 

“It is yours,” sang the bird, and spreading 
its wings it left him. 

In another moment the young man saw the 
hare looking at him. 

“You spared my life this afternoon,” said 
the hare, “what do you wish for most?” 

Then the young man, thinking of his 
lonely life, replied quickly, “I wish for the love 
of every one whom I love.” 

“You have it,” said the hare and he hopped 
away to the bushes. 

The young man had no time to think 
about the wonderful granting of these two 
wishes, for at that moment the big, brown deer 
was bending over him. 

“You spared my life,” it cried softly, “now 
whatever you wish shall be granted.” 




118 


HOMESPUN STORIES 


Then the young man, noticing the deer’s 
sad eyes answered at once, 

“I wish for a merry heart for you and me.” 

The deer looked at him and the young man 
was sure that he saw a joyful light in its eyes 
ere it turned and ran away. 

Then the young man sat up and saw to 
his great surprise a bush quite near, full of 
ripe fruit, and just behind him he caught the 
tinkle of a spring. 

He ate and drank his fill, and then went 
joyfully on his way, saying to himself, “I care 
not whether or not I come out of the woods, 
since I am never to fear any more, am always 
to be merry, and when I do meet some people 
I love they are sure to love me.” 

So he sang as he trudged along. How¬ 
ever, he did come out of the woods very soon, 
and for the rest of his life he was never afraid, 
or lonely, or sad. 





How I wish you would buy more dishes 

LITTLE SHINER 

TT'AR away in the beautiful land of Autobee 
there lives a dear little girl who loves to 
wash dishes. Indeed she often says to her 
mother, 


119 





120 


HOMESPUN STORIES 


“Oh, how I wish you would buy more 
dishes, so that I could have lots and lots of 
them to wash.” 

Tell you her name, and her street and 
number? 

No indeed, for, if I should, I know 
exactly what would happen, everyone would 
take a trip to Autobee, and some lucky person 
would pick up this dear child and carry her 
off and then what would become of her 
mother’s dishes? I am afraid they would go 
unwashed a good many times. So instead of 
telling you her name I will tell you the pretty 
nickname given to her by her big brother, and 
of which she is very proud. It is “Little 
Shiner,” because, said he, “she makes the 
dishes shine so.” 




LITTLE SHINER 


121 


One morning when she was at work as 
usual she was astonished to hear a soft voice 
saying, 

“Take care! take care!” 

She looked all around, no one was in the 
kitchen but herself, and the doors and windows 
were all closed. 

“How queer!” she said to herself. 

Then in a minute or so, she heard the soft 
voice again saying, 

“Take care! take care!” 

“Why, it seems to come from the dish- 
pan,” she said. She looked down at the beauti¬ 
ful china pitcher which she was washing. 

“This pitcher has a bad crack in its side,” 
she said half-aloud. 

Then straightway she heard the soft voice 
again, 




122 


HOMESPUN STORIES 


“Take care! take care!” 

“Oh it’s you is it, telling me to take care?” 
she said to the pitcher. “Every time I wash the 
dishes mother says to be careful of the pink 
china pitcher, so you needn’t be afraid that I’m 
going to break you.” 

“Of course not,” retorted the pitcher 
scornfully. “If you were to knock me onto 
the floor this very minute and break me into a 
thousand pieces you’d say I broke myself. 
That’s the way with you humans, you never 
want to be blamed for the bad things you do, 
yet you want praise for all your good deeds. 
That sort of shirking is all right for kings and 
queens, but it will not do for everyday common 
people like you.” 

“Umph,” said Little Shiner, “what do you 
mean by talking about kings and queens? I 




LITTLE SHINER 


123 


don’t believe you ever saw either one in your 
life.” 

“Did not? Well now, let me tell you, I 
was a king myself once.” 

“Oh dear me,” said Little Shiner, “how 
very funny!” and she began to laugh heartily. 
“I don’t believe you know what you are talk¬ 
ing about.” 

“Indeed I do,” said the pitcher firmly, “for 
I tell you I was the king of the sideboard, until 
I got this ugly crack in my side.” 

Little Shiner took the pitcher very care¬ 
fully in her hand as she asked, 

“Wouldn’t they let you be king any longer 
just because you got hurt? That isn’t fair.” 

“No, but your mother said I was only a poor 
old cracked thing now, and I might as well be 




124 


HOMESPUN STORIES 


used as long as I lasted, so I haven’t been near 
the sideboard for weeks and weeks. I am stuck 
off in the pantry or the refrigerator, and even 
when I get into the dining room, the coffee- 
urn, or some such high-headed thing is put 
right between me and the sideboard.” 

“Well,” said Little Shiner sympathetically, 
“I am very sorry indeed for you, and maybe I 
can get you put back on the sideboard. Do 
you think they would let you be king again, 
if I should?” 

“Of course, they couldn’t help themselves, 
but your mother will never let me be put back 
on the sideboard as long as I have this crack, 
and it cannot be mended.” 

“How do you know she won’t? I think 
she will if I ask her. I guess you don’t know 
more about my mother than I do.” 




LITTLE SHINER 


125 


“No, no,” said the little pitcher with a side¬ 
splitting sigh, “I seem to feel the crack in my 
side widening now, and as soon as I am unable 
to hold cream I know I shall come to the rub¬ 
bish heap.” 

Little Shiner took the pitcher up, washed 
and dried it carefully, then carried it to the din¬ 
ing room and stood it on the sideboard. She 
looked at it a moment, and it seemed to her that 
the flowers on its side were nodding at her. 

When she had finished her dishes she went 
to her mother. 

“Mother,” she said, “please do not use the 
pink china pitcher any more, it is cracked so 
badly that every time I wash it, I am afraid it 
will come to pieces.” 

“What is it good for, little daughter, if we 
cannot use it?” 




126 


HOMESPUN STORIES 


“It is so beautiful, and isn’t it nice to have 
some things around that are just pretty to look 
at, even though they are not useful?” 

“Perhaps,” said the mother with a smile. 

So now the pink china pitcher stays on the 
sideboard, but, would you believe it, it has 
never spoken to little Shiner since that day. 

I call that ingratitude, don’t you? 





COZY-CORNER TALES 



ILLUSTRATED BY J T COCHRAN 

BOOK TWO 








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COZY CORNER STORIES 



THE BIRD IN THE WELL 


/''NNCE upon a time, in a certain town in a 
far-away land, there was a deep well, of 
which it was said that at long intervals of time, 
a beautiful bird flew from it and bestowed a wish 
upon the person who drew the first bucket of 
water in the morning. 


7 





8 


COZY CORNER STORIES 


Of course, there were plenty of people who 
declared that this was only a cunning device to 
coax the lazy villagers out of their beds, and as 
time went on, this belief grew stronger and 
stronger, until at last the only people who had 
any faith left in the tradition were the very old 
and the very young. 

Among those who believed that the beauti¬ 
ful bird was still waiting in the well’s cool dark 
depths was little Marion Lee, the wildest and 
naughtiest child in the town. In school she was 
always at the foot of her class; at home her work 
was never done, and her poor aunt with whom 
she lived, and who understood little about chil¬ 
dren, was driven almost wild by Marion’s 
naughty pranks. 

In short, there was not a place in all the 




THE BIRD IN THE WELL 


9 


town where Marion’s coming was welcomed, or 
her going mourned. The child, like many older 
people, blamed everyone but herself for the ill- 
will shown her, and so she grew to long, with all 
her heart, for the bird in the well to come and 
grant her just one wish. On this wish she pon¬ 
dered day and night, and often when she had 
been having an especially unhappy time, she 
would say it over and over to herself: 

“I want to be handsomer, richer and smarter 
than anyone else in this whole town.” 

It was one of Marion’s duties to go every 
morning to this well after water, and as she al¬ 
ways rose early, because her aunt made her go 
to bed almost as soon as the sun did. She might 
easily have been first at the well every morning, 
but she was a sad loiterer, and stopped to pluck 




10 


COZY CORNER STORIES 


every flower that she saw, and to examine every 
curious insect that crossed her path. She always 
found when she came to the well, that someone 
else had been there before her. But she would 
console herself when she found that the beautiful 
bird had not appeared and would promise her¬ 
self to be first on the morrow. 

So it went on through many morrows, until 
at last, there came an unusually dark day for 
even Marion Lee, she had been saucy, mischiev¬ 
ous and disobedient, and at last her aunt sent her 
off to bed with a soundly boxed pair of ears. The 
poor child’s sleep was neither sound nor sweet 
that night, and she was out of bed and on her way 
to the well while a few faint morning stars were 
still shining. 

Her heart was so heavy that she had no eyes 




THE BIRD IN THE WELL 


11 


for the dew-drops on the grass, or the flowers by 
the way-side. A merry cat-bird caroled to her 
from a tree nearby, but she did not, as she would 
once have done, stand entranced beneath him, 
and listen to his song. A gay butterfly fluttered 
from a weed, shaken by her skirt, but she did not 
even glance at it. 

There was but one thought present with her, 
and nothing could allure her from her purpose 
to be first at the well, and she said to herself as 
she ran along swinging her pail angrily: 

“If I can only get my one wish I will pay 
off finely all these bad, bad people.” 

When she came near the well she saw that 
no one else was there, and as there was no water 
dripping from the edges of the brown old 
bucket, it was evident that it had been dry for 
many hours. 




12 


COZY CORNER STORIES 


At last she was first at the well! She pressed 
forward joyfully, and, out of pure curiosity, 
lifted her eyes to see if anyone else were coming. 
Down the slope, just a few yards away, was a 
little girl about her own size, toiling painfully 
along on a crutch. Marion dropped to her side 
the hand she was about to lay on the old wind¬ 
lass, and watched the child’s slow progress. 

The child’s eyes were cast down and she did 
not see Marion until she had almost reached the 
well, then she looked up, gave a little cry of dis¬ 
appointment, and dropped upon the ground, 
weeping bitterly. 

“Come,” cried Marion, running toward her 
and picking up her crutch, “don’t cry, I haven’t 
touched the windlass yet. Hurry, for I see some 
people coming, get up and take hold of the wind¬ 
lass.” 




THE BIRD IN THE WELL 


13 


“Oh,” said the child, still sobbing, “but I 
wasn’t here first; it belongs to you, and I did 
want the bird to come and give me my wish. 
I do so much want my lame foot cured.” 

“No matter about me,” said Marion, 
“though I have lots of trouble, I’m not lame, and 
I can run faster some other morning.” 

“But if the bird comes to me this morning, 
it will be a long time, maybe, before it will come 
again,” objected the child, as she pulled herself 
up by Marion’s hand. 

“No matter,” cried Marion, “here, put your 
hand on the windlass,” and she took the slim 
little hand and laid it on the well-worn handle. 
Down, down into the mysterious depths went the 
bucket, and the two children stood with eager 
faces waiting for it to fill, then the rope 




14 


COZY CORNER STORIES 


straightened, and the lame girl, steadying herself 
on her crutch, began to turn the heavy windlass. 

Suddenly there was a swish, and something 
alive and shining darted out of the well and 
dropped on Marion’s shoulder; she heard a few 
whispered words, there came again that mys¬ 
terious swish, and she turned around to find the 
lame child gazing at the sky with a smiling face. 

“So beautiful, so beautiful!” she whispered, 
as she clasped and unclasped her trembling 
hands. “It flew up there, but it came to you 
and not to me, and neither of us had time to 
wish.” 

Marion was silent, she was thinking of the 
words whispered in her ear: 

“You have sacrificed yourself for another, 
and now, as long as you live, every human being 








Suddenly There IF as a Swish 

15 
































































































16 


COZY CORNER STORIES 


you meet shall speak kindly to you. This is my 
gift to you.” 

When she reached home her aunt was stand¬ 
ing in the doorway. She smiled at Marion when 
she came through the gateway and said tenderly, 

“You dear child, to go so early after the 
water. And now, will you feed the chickens for 
auntie?” 

Marion could hardly believe her ears, but 
she ran to get the meal-pan and the chickens 
were fed in a very few minutes. As she was re¬ 
turning to the house, a man passed by whose 
cows she had clubbed and chased only the day 
before. 

“Good morning, Marion,” he said kindly, 
“what a smart little girl you are to be out so 
early! You must come over to see my Jennie 
today.” 




THE BIRD IN THE WELL 


17 


Marion could hardly move or speak, she 
was so astonished, but she gave the man a bright 
smile, which caused him to say: 

“What a beautiful child that Marion Lee is, 
after all.” 

When she reached the school house it was 
just the same; the children came running to meet 
her, and the teacher said, as she came into the 
schoolroom: 

“Ah, here is my dear little Marion, she’s 
going to have perfect lessons today, I know by 
the look in her eyes.” 

“The whole world is changed,” said Marion 
to herself. 

And, of course, as you will readily imagine, 
Marion changed too, for how could she be cross, 
and idle and stupid, when everyone was telling 




18 


COZY CORNER STORIES 


her how kind, and studious and bright she was. 

So, in her heart, she thanked the bird in the 
well that instead of granting her selfish and 
wicked wish, it had given her this other and far 
greater gift. 








One of the King's Spies 


THE KING, THE EGGS AND 
CHIMPANZEES 


Z^NCE upon a time a wicked king reigned 
over the land of Nowa. It was a well- 
known fact that if any of his servants displeased 
him ever so slightly, off went the offender’s head. 
So the only way in which this bad king could get 


19 







20 


COZY CORNER STORIES 


people to keep his palace in order was by send¬ 
ing armed men out to bring him anyone of whose 
good work he chanced to hear. For this reason, 
people in that land who were skillful in any line 
took great pains to keep the fact quiet, instead 
of having it put in the papers as is the fashion 
everywhere these days. But the king kept spies 
out all over the land, so by this means he found 
out very quickly whenever anyone excelled in 
any art or industry. 

He had secured his cook in this very way. 
His spies had brought him word that there was 
in a certain part of his kingdom a man cook who 
made the best cream pies in the world. That 
was enough, and the cook had to come to the 
palace kitchen much against his will. He had 
tried so hard to keep the fame of his pies from 
spreading abroad, but a thing like that, “the 




KING, EGGS AND CHIMPANZEES 


21 


best cream pies in the world,” was bound to be 
known, sooner or later. 

Matters went along very smoothly for a 
while and the cook was beginning to feel quite 
secure in his position, when, one morning, the 
king ordered soft-boiled eggs for his breakfast. 
They were sent up to the king’s room, for he was 
as lazy as he was wicked, and he had never been 
known to leave his bed until high noon. The 
attendant arranged the liberal breakfast while 
the king looked on smiling until the shell of the 
first egg was broken, then how he did rage! 
True, the egg was soft, but it was not soft 
enough. The second egg was broken and it was 
just like the first one. Then the king sent one 
of his pages in great haste to summon the cook. 
When the cook came into the king’s presence 




22 


COZY CORNER STORIES 


his teeth chattered so hard that the sound was 
almost like hail stones falling on the roof. 

As soon as the king saw the cook, he called 
out fiercely: 

“Take that egg and boil it soft!” 

“But, your majesty,” pleaded the trembling 
cook, “don’t you know—” 

“I know,” roared the king, angrier than 
ever, “that if you don’t get that egg soft enough 
to suit me within half an hour, off goes your 
head.” 

“But—it’s s-o-s-soft now,” stammered the 
cook. 

“I want it softer, do you hear? Boil it soft, 
and then boil it softer, and now be off.” 

The king, you see, didn’t know anything 
about cooking eggs, because they didn’t teach 





“But, Your Majesty —” Pleaded the Cook 


23 













































24 


COZY CORNER STORIES 


domestic science in the schools of Nowa. If they 
had, although the king had never gone to school 
when he could possibly think of anywhere else 
to go, he might have learned enough knowledge 
to understand that cooking eggs was quite dif¬ 
ferent from cooking potatoes. 

The frightened cook had stumbled out of 
the king’s presence so hurriedly that he had left 
the unbroken egg lying on the king’s plate, so a 
page was ordered to carry it down to the kitchen 
and to stay there and see that the cook didn’t 
boil any other egg but that very one. When this 
message was duly delivered, the cook dropped 
into a chair and holding his face in his hands he 
sobbed out, “I am just as good as dead, and what 
will become of my wife and seven children?” 

The page who was a kind-hearted lad, said, 
“Come, come, don’t despair.” 





KING, EGGS AND CHIMPANZEES 25 


“What will become of my wife and seven children?” 

“I see you don’t know any more about cook¬ 
ing than the king does, if you think there is any 
way out of this trouble,” said the cook between 
his sobs. 

Then the page threw the egg, which he still 
carried, into the fire, and said: 

“I see a whole basket full of eggs exactly 
like this one on the table, come cheer up and 
cook one ‘just right’ for the king.” 










26 


COZY CORNER STORIES 


“Ah, but still you don’t understand,” was 
the cook’s mournful response, “I cooked those 
eggs by that little minute glass on the table, I 
have no other rule to go by, so there is no hope,” 
and again his loud sobbing was heard. 

“But listen,” exclaimed the page, “I have a 
plan, my grandmother is a cook over in the 
country next to this. She always has things just 
right, but don’t let the king hear of it. I’ll put 
on my wings and fly over there. She will give me 
her rule for cooking eggs just soft enough, and 
I’ll be back in a hurry, the king will not miss me, 
for he told me to stay here and watch you cook 
the egg, and I mean to do it. So cheer up and 
have some water very hot by the time I come back 
again.” 

Then the cook with a new hope in his heart, 




KING, EGGS AND CHIMPANZEES 


27 


wiped his eyes, mended the fire and put some 
water on to boil. By the time the water was hot 
the page rushed into the kitchen and without 
waiting to be questioned he said: 

“Put the eggs into boiling water, then count 
this way, not too fast, you know, one chimpan¬ 
zee, two chimpanzees, three chimpanzees, four 
chimpanzees, five chimpanzees up to one hun¬ 
dred and eighty, then take the egg out and send 
it quickly to the king.” 

The cook followed his instructions and he 
was so delighted with the prospect of his suc¬ 
cess that he soon began to count aloud, the 
kitchen window was open and, it so happened 
that just as he said “ninety-eight chimpanzees, 
ninety-nine chimpanzees, one hundred chim¬ 
panzees, one of the king’s spies passed the win¬ 
dow and heard the words. Without waiting for 




28 


COZY CORNER STORIES 


a moment’s investigation he rushed in upon the 
king exclaiming: 

“O, your majesty, there are one hundred 
chimpanzees down in the kitchen this very min¬ 
ute !” 

“What if there are?” roared the king im¬ 
patiently, “what are chimpanzees anyway, are 
they good to eat?” 

“They are immense monkeys,” was the 
reply. 

“What,” shrieked the king, “do you mean 
those hideous creatures of which I have seen 
pictures and which I have always called chim- 
punzees?” 

“Chimpunzees or chimpanzees,” retorted 
the spy impatiently, “there are a hundred of 
them in the kitchen this moment, for I heard the 




KING, EGGS AND CHIMPANZEES 


29 


cook counting them. He no doubt intends 
bringing them up here to destroy your majesty.” 

“Chimpanzees, chimpanzees, chimpan¬ 
zees !” screamed the king louder and louder, run¬ 
ning wildly around the room. And just as he 
said it for the twentieth time he tumbled over in 
a fit, and in a few moments he was dead. 

The king and spy were alone in the room so 
no one knew about the chimpanzees but the spy, 
and he was too frightened to tell of his part in the 
king’s death, so when the doctors gave the cause 
of it a long medical name there was no one to 
dispute them. The spy had to leave the palace 
at once, for the good queen who succeeded the 
wicked king, had no use for such creatures. So 
for the rest of his life the spy was never perfectly 
happy, because one question was forever tan- 




30 


COZY CORNER STORIES 


talizing him, “What ever became of all those 
chimpanzees in the kitchen of the palace?” 

You see, if he had only delayed his tale¬ 
bearing just long enough to gaze in at the 
kitchen window what a lot of trouble might 
have been saved all around. 

How about the egg? O, that was done “just 
right,” the cook ate it for his dinner, it was so 
good, and he was such a kind, forgiving fellow 
that he was really sorry the king was not there 
to eat it himself. 






To see the hat go sailing 


MR. PHUNNYMAN 
Once there was a little boy who laughed so 
seldom, and cried so often that he had been 
given the nickname of “Dumps.” 

Of course I know that this is not at all a 
pretty name, but he so richly deserved it that it 
clung to him, and after a while, even his mother 
almost forgot he had any other name. 

But, one day something happened to him. 
He was lying in the hammock under the beauti¬ 
ful elm tree, screaming with all his might, when 


31 



32 


COZY CORNER STORIES 


he suddenly saw a little, old man sitting at the 
foot of the hammock. 

“Hallo,” said the little, old man, “do you 
know me?” 

Then this naughty little boy stopped 
screeching long enough to say, “No, and I don’t 
know that I want to,” and then he began screech¬ 
ing again harder than ever. 

At this, the queer visitor twisted up his 
funny, little, fat face and laughed so loudly that 
“Dumps” stopped crying, in sheer surprise. 

“You’re not a bad looking chap when your 
face is straight,” said the old man. 

This seemed to remind “Dumps” of his 
wrongs, for the screeching at once began again. 
Then the laughing began also. 

“What are you laughing at?” asked 




MR. PHUNNYMAN 


33 


“Dumps,” “I’m sure I don’t see anything 
funny.” 

“I’m laughing,” was the answer, “because 
laughing is better than crying any day, besides 
it’s the funniest thing I ever saw to see a great big 
boy like you lie right here in the hammock, and 
hold out his cookie, so that a smart dog could 
come along and gobble it up. Ho, ho, ho! 
funniest thing I ever saw, dog smarter than a boy 
who goes to school and reads in the third reader,” 
and the little, old man doubled himself all up 
with laughter. 

Now this was the very thing about which 
“Dumps” had been crying, but the little old man 
twisted his face into such funny wrinkles, and 
doubled his fat little body into such odd shapes, 
that before “Dumps” knew it he was laughing 
with all his might. 




34 


COZY CORNER STORIES 


“There now, that is better. You see I am 
Mr. Phunnyman, and I teach people that laugh¬ 
ing is better than crying. After I have made a 
visit to anyone, he or she can always see the 
funny side of things.’’ 

“But,” said “Dumps” almost ready to cry 
again, “suppose there is no funny side?” 

“Of course I have no power over things of 
that kind, but I tell you, my boy, their number 
is very small, what is more, the habit of laughing 
at the small troubles of life will help you to bear 
the large ones.” 

“Dumps” was sitting up in the hammock 
watching the old man very eagerly, and just at 
this moment, the May breeze caught up his straw 
hat, mistaking it no doubt for some sort of gi¬ 
gantic apple blossom, and away it went over the 
fence and far down the road. 

At any other time, how “Dumps” would 




MR. PHUNNYMAN 


35 


have screamed over this, but the little man 
laughed to see the hat go sailing and whirling 
away, and so “Dumps” began to laugh too. 

“There,” said the little man checking him¬ 
self, “Now you’ll do, you have laughed twice 
within five minutes, and I don’t believe you will 
ever bawl again like a great calf, but if you ever 
should forget yourself, I’ll come again, and 
then I shall keep you laughing three days and 
three nights, without giving you time to either 
eat or sleep, so look out,” and turning a somer¬ 
sault the queer little visitor landed on the 
ground. 

Dumps made a quick jump to catch him, 
but he was gone, and the only thing that was left 
to remind him that Mr. Phunnyman had been 
there, was his own straw hat lying beside the 
road several rods away. 




36 


COZY CORNER STORIES 


“How he did laugh to see it go,” said 
“Dumps” to himself, and he laughed aloud 
again, as he thought about it while going down 
the road after it. When he came back to the 
house his mother sat on the porch, and he told 
her at once about Mr. Phunnyman. 

“It was a dream,” his mother said, “you 
cried yourself to sleep over losing your cookie 
and then you dreamed it.” 

“No, no,” insisted the boy, “I saw him just 
as plainly as I see you this minute.” 

To this opinion he clung firmly, and the 
family found it impossible to talk him out of the 
notion. But whether it was a dream or not, from 
that summer day, he never again cried out aloud, 
no matter what happened. 

“It is just as easy,” he told his sister, “when 




MR. PHUNNYMAN 


37 



“‘Mr. Phunnyman , Mr. Phunnyman* as fast as I can —” 

you make up your mind to it. I don’t want to 
laugh three days on a stretch, without either 
eating or sleeping, so whenever I feel like 
screaming I just say ‘Mr. Phunnyman, Mr. 
Phunnyman,’ as fast as I can, and then I don’t 
scream.” So, “Dumps” lost his ugly nick¬ 


name. 







THE LITTLE KING WHO WAS NOT 
CLEVER 

TN a long ago time, in a far-away land, a little 
child was made king. He did not like the 
pomp and ceremony, indeed, when he was put 
into the great coronation chair, and the heavy 
jeweled crown was placed on his head he put up 
his pretty red lips and would have cried outright 
if the Lord High Chamberlain had not whis¬ 
pered a few comforting words in his ear. 

38 




KING WHO WAS NOT CLEVER 


39 


When all the fuss and display were over, 
things were a little easier for the small king. 
To be sure, there were lessons to be learned, and 
many tiresome court rules to be followed every 
day. But whenever the child king rebelled, the 
Lord High Chamberlain would say to him with 
a sly twinkle in his eye, 

“Perhaps you would like to be crowned 
again.” 

Then the poor poor boy would give up and 
be as good and obedient as anyone could wish. 

Of course so young a king cannot govern 
a country, so they appointed what is called a 
“King Regent,” who was to govern until the 
real king was twenty-one years old. The man 
who was made king regent was uncle to the boy 
king, and if it had not been for this one small 
person, he would have been ruler of the king- 




40 


COZY CORNER STORIES 


dom all his life, instead of only a few short 
years, so, for this reason, I am sorry to say, the 
king regent did not love the boy king. In fact, 
he had tried to keep people from crowning the 
king by telling, far and wide, that he was a poor 
little idiot. But the Lord High Chamberlain 
was a very good man, and he took great pains to 
contradict the stories told by the king regent, 
and thus he succeeded in quieting the people, 
so that they were both willing and glad to have 
him crowned. 

Now, the truth about the little king was 
that, although he was by no means an idiot, he 
was not at all a clever child. But the Lord High 
Chamberlain, who knew the history of the 
world, was well aware of the fact that kings and 
queens are not always clever people. “They 




KING WHO WAS NOT CLEVER 


41 


often have very poor minds,” he said to himself. 
So he believed this little boy would do very well 
for a king, if carefully brought up and properly 
educated. 

One day, when his visit to the king’s 
chambers lasted longer than usual, he discovered 
a fact that had long been known to the immediate 
attendants, the king could not tell his left hand 
from his right! The Lord High Chamberlain 
spent nearly an hour trying to teach him the dif¬ 
ference between his right and left hand. He 
worked with him patiently, until at last, the king 
became very angry and exclaimed, 

“What is the use of being king if I must 
bother to know my right hand from my left just 
like other people?” 

Then a great fear struck the heart of the 




42 


COZY CORNER STORIES 


Lord High Chamberlain. He called the atten¬ 
dants aside and said to them, 

“Keep this matter very quiet, if the regent 
finds out that the king can not tell his right hand 
from his left hand, he will publish the fact 
abroad as a proof that the poor little king is not 
bright.” 

So they promised secrecy, and the Lord 
High Chamberlain went away alone to think 
the matter over. The next day he had a 
long interview with the king regent. No one 
ever found out all that was said at this interview, 
but the Lord High Chamberlain was a very keen 
man, and very skillful in bending other people 
to his will. 

The following day things began to happen. 

You understand, of course, that those old 




KING WHO WAS NOT CLEVER 


43 


days were very different from the days in which 
we are now living. 

There were no railroads, no telephones, or 
telegrams, no typewriters, and no air-ships or 
radio messages. So that news was carried 
around the world very seldom, but when it did 
have to go, which was sometimes the case, it was 
transported very slowly and laboriously. 

However, there were many scribes in the 
palace, and very early the next morning they 
were all hard at work with strong quill pens, 
copying on heavy paper these words, 

“The King Regent announces, with the au¬ 
thority of the Lord High Chamberlain, the 
prime minister and other members of the royal 
cabinet, that to every man, woman and child 
who can show themselves to be ambi-dextrous, 




44 


COZY CORNER STORIES 


that is, to be able to use the left hand for all pur¬ 
poses, as well as the right one, an annual pen¬ 
sion of one hundred golden ducats will be paid. 
There is also offered by the same high author¬ 
ities, a prize of one thousand ducats for the 
invention of any sort of handcovering which 
will fit either hand with equal ease.” 

When as many of these proclamations were 
copied as the Lord High Chamberlain thought 
necessary there was a great commotion in the 
palace yard. The horses were brought out and 
made ready, with many fine trappings, for 
mounting by the king’s heralds to carry these 
two proclamations to every corner of the 
kingdom. 

As the company of Heralds went galloping 
out of the palace yard, blowing their trumpets 




KING WHO WAS NOT CLEVER 


45 



As the Lord High Chamberlain thought necessary— 


















46 


COZY CORNER STORIES 


with all their might and main, the Lord High 
Chamberlain looked after them with a happy 
light in his eyes. 

“Now,” he thought wisely, “in case the little 
king’s defect is discovered it will not be at all 
noticeable, since there will be hundreds of others 
in the same situation. If he should be able after 
a while to overcome his helplessness then we can 
revoke the pensions, meanwhile it will do no 
harm, but may be a great help to some poor 
people.” 

So the days went by, until one morning, 
some two or three months of ter the proclamation 
of the pensions and the prize, a tall, motherly, 
middle-aged woman rang at the palace gate and 
asked to see the “great head-keeper of the royal 
household appurtenances.” 




KING WHO WAS NOT CLEVER 


47 


She was given a seat in the hall, for she had 
a long time to wait, the doorkeeper had to tell 
the page, and the page had to tell the messenger 
boy, and the messenger boy had to tell the keeper 
of the royal halls, and the keeper of the royal 
halls had to tell the keeper of the royal rooms, 
and the keeper of the royal rooms had to tell the 
assistant keeper of the royal household appur¬ 
tenances, and the assistant keeper of the royal 
household appurtenances had to tell the great 
head keeper of the royal household appurten¬ 
ances, himself. 

So, when word came, at last, to the waiting 
woman that the great dignitary would see her, 
she had to be passed along by all these people 
just like an advertising card. She was very 
tired when she at last came into the presence of 




48 


COZY CORNER STORIES 


the great head keeper of the royal household 
appurtenances, but she found her tongue at 
once, and told him that she wanted to be hired 
to assist in caring for the royal household 
appurtenances. He said, at first, that he didn’t 
need any more help, but when he looked her 
over more carefully he was so much pleased 
with her general appearance that he began to 
consider the matter, and asked to see her testi¬ 
monials, if she had any. These were so excel¬ 
lent that he finally hired her on the spot. 

A few days after this, as the new helper, who 
called herself Mother Margaret, was passing 
through the hall, she heard loud cries and 
screams in the kitchen. She ran there with all 
speed and found the head master of the royal 
bath dancing around on one foot and holding 




KING WHO WAS NOT CLEVER 


49 


up the other, which was steaming and dripping 
with water. There were several servants in the 
room, but each one was poring over a big book 
of court rules, in order to find out whose 
business it was to help the head-master of the 
royal bath in case of accident. Mother Mar¬ 
garet paid no attention to them, but quickly bade 
the head-master of the royal bath sit in the 
nearest chair. He did so, and when Mother 
Margaret had, very tenderly and skillfully, 
drawn off the embroidered slipper and the dainty 
silk sock, she applied a simple remedy to the 
hurt foot which at once stopped the pain. She 
then bound it up in soft cloths and, bidding the 
head-master of the royal bath lean on her shoul¬ 
der, she led him up stairs to his own cozy room. 

While all this was going on the servants in 




50 


COZY CORNER STORIES 


the kitchen had their noses buried so deeply in 
the big books of court rules that they were prac¬ 
tically deaf and blind to their surroundings. 

When they, at last, had succeeded in figur¬ 
ing the thing all out and sent, by the proper 
servant for the proper nurse, and they had 
arrived in the proper carriages, drawn by the 
proper horses, the head master of the royal bath 
was asleep with his foot on a satin cushion. 

From that hour the head master of the 
royal bath and good Mother Margaret were 
firm friends. One day she told him in con¬ 
fidence that she had come to the palace to work, 
because she hoped to get a chance to talk to the 
Lord High Chamberlain, “But,” she added, 
with almost a sob, “as yet, I have not even seen 
him.” 




KING WHO WAS NOT CLEVER 


51 


“And why do you wish to talk with him, 
good Mother Margaret?” asked the head 
master of the royal bath. 

“Because,” was the reply, “I have heard 
that he is the most powerful man in the 
kingdom.” 

“Ah,” he said, “I perceive you have some 
favor to ask of him?” 

“Yes,” was the answer, “you have guessed 
right. My son is the proprietor of the largest 
glove factory in the kingdom, and has been very 
prosperous. But when the prize was offered for 
the invention of a covering which will fit either 
hand, my son’s foreman invented a thing called 
a ‘mitten.’ It has no fingers, only a thumb, so 
that it can be worn either side up, and I must 
admit is both comfortable and convenient. The 




52 


COZY CORNER STORIES 


man has a large factory of his own and is 
making mittens in vast quantities, consequently 
there is no more sale for gloves, and my son is 
nearly bankrupt. If I could see the Lord High 
Chamberlain, perhaps I could induce him to 
forbid the manufacture of mittens. The in¬ 
ventor of them has had the prize money and it 
seems to me that he ought to be satisfied with 
that. If the mittens are no longer manufac¬ 
tured, my son’s business will return to him and 
all will be well with us.” 

The head master of the royal bath at this 
shook his head and looked very grave. 

“It is no use for you to hope for that, dear 
Mother Margaret,” he said sadly. “I may as 
well tell you at once, frankly that nothing you, 
or anyone else, could possibly say to the Lord 




KING WHO WAS NOT CLEVER 


53 


High Chamberlain would induce him to repeal 
the law of pensions for ambi-dextrous people, 
or to forbid the manufacture of the mittens 
which will fit either hand, the whole of that 
right and left hand business is very dear to him, 
and he is prouder of it than he is of being Lord 
High Chamberlain. 

“Well, I must say, he shows very poor 
taste,” exclaimed Mother Margaret scornfully. 

The head Master of the Royal Wardrobe 
sat for a few moments in a deep brown study, 
and seemed to be weighing some important 
matter very carefully, then he said with a bright 
and winning smile, 

“Mother Margaret, I’ll tell you about the 
whole of this queer business, of course it is a 
state secret but I know I can rely upon you not 
to betray it.” 




54 


COZY CORNER STORIES 


“Yes indeed,” said Mother Margaret, “be¬ 
cause even if I were not disposed to be true and 
honest with you, it would be for my own 
interest to keep quiet about it, therefore please 
go on and let me know all about the matter.” 

Then he told her of the little king’s diffi¬ 
culty which had caused the sending out of the 
queer proclamation, and he closed with these 
words, 

“So you see, good Mother Margaret, the 
only one who can help you is the little king 
himself. If you could, in some way, I don’t 
know how, but that you’ll have to manage for 
yourself, cause him to acquire the little trick 
which all the rest of us have failed to teach, we 
should probably hear no more about this foolish 
‘ambidexterity,’ the craze for mittens would be 




KING WHO WAS NOT CLEVER 


55 


over, gloves would again be fashionable, and 
so your son’s business would again be pros¬ 
perous.” 

“But,” said Mother Margaret, with some¬ 
thing very like a sob, “how can I hope to teach 
the king which is his right hand when I never 
even see him?” 

“Well!” said the head Master of the Royal 
Wardrobe, “that is the easiest thing in the world 
to arrange. I hereby and now make you mis¬ 
tress of the royal ambrosials. This, in plain 
English, means that you are to look after the 
king’s hair. We give it this high-sounding 
name, because the king’s hair is supposed to be 
sweet like ambrosia, do you understand?” 

Mother Margaret nodded and said, 

“Yes, indeed, I like that!” 




56 


COZY CORNER STORIES 


“So you see, looking after the king’s hair 
will bring you often in his company alone, and 
give you every opportunity to instruct him.” 

“But,” said the good woman, trembling 
with joy at this great and unlooked for good 
fortune, “how am I to teach the king this im¬ 
portant piece of knowledge, when he hears so 
much talk about ambidexterity?” 

“Never mind!” said the head Master of the 
Royal Wardrobe with a hearty laugh, “He 
knows nothing about all that, don’t you under¬ 
stand that is just to blind the king regent, who 
is always setting up the members of the royal 
household to spy upon the personal habits of 
the little king. The Lord High Chamberlain 
thought that if everybody in the whole kingdom 
used the left hand as well as the right, no one 




KING WHO WAS NOT CLEVER 


57 


would notice the king’s inability to distinguish 
between the two. You see, the king regent is 
doing his best to show that the king is feeble¬ 
minded, while the Lord High Chamberlain is 
doing his best to prove that he is not. And all 
the royal household, with one or two exceptions, 
is working against the king regent. So you 
will see, dear Mother Margaret, that you are 
helping along a good cause. If you can manage 
to be alone with the king a little while every 
day no one will know of your attempts, and, 
even if you are successful, it must be attributed 
to the little king’s own cleverness.” 

Good Mother Margaret began her new 
duties at once, and the poor little king, who had 
neither mother, sister, aunt nor grandmother, 
and whose attendants were all men, was sur- 




58 


COZY CORNER STORIES 


prised and delighted to find how tender and 
loving a woman’s hands could be. It soon 
came to be a common saying about the palace 
that no one could do things to suit the king so 
well as the mistress of the Royal Ambrosials. 
So the days wore on, and every hour the king 
was growing more and more fond of good 
Mother Margaret. 

At last one day when they were alone to¬ 
gether, she tried to teach him the long-desired 
accomplishment, the lack of which had caused 
so many wide-spread changes and brought, to 
her family, at least, such sad results. But all in 
vain, the child tried hard to grasp the impos¬ 
sible fact that one of his hands was right and the 
other, as he expressed it, “all wrong.” 

Perhaps you can understand how sorry 




KING WHO WAS NOT CLEVER 


59 


Mother Margaret felt. She used every device 
she had ever heard of, yet it seemed impossible 
for the child king to remember just which one 
of his little fat hands was the right one. 

“What shall I do? What shall I do?” she 
said to herself over and over again. “If I 
cannot make him see the difference between his 
left hand and his right one I may as well return 
to my home. After all, I can see that it was a 
wild and foolish scheme for me to think that I 
could come here and have any influence on the 
Lord High Chamberlain. If it hadn’t been for 
the wonderful stories I had heard of his kind¬ 
ness and sympathy I never should have had the 
courage to make the attempt.” 

While she was indulging in these sad and 
useless reflections, her eyes were on the little 




60 


COZY CORNER STORIES 


king and his incessant motions, for he was a 
busy little fellow. He was continually running 
back and forth, in and out of the adjoining 
room, where all his playthings were kept. On 
either side of the door was a large statue, one 
was that of a sailor in uniform, the other a sol¬ 
dier, also in uniform. The statues were painted 
appropriately and were very striking in appear¬ 
ance. Suddenly the thought came to her, “Why 
not make use of the king’s restlessness to help 
him learn this difficult lesson?” Her thoughts 
of failure flew away, and she said to herself, 
“I will try once more.” Then she called the 
little king to her and said, 

“Now, when you go into your playroom 
from this room, your right hand is the one next 
to the sailor, when you come back to this 




KING WHO WAS NOT CLEVER 


61 


room your right hand will be next to the 
soldier.” 

“Oh!” he said, with a shout of joy, “it’s 
just like a funny game, it will be the same hand 
all the time.” 

“Yes,” she said, “so it will, now run into 
the playroom and when you go through the 
door hold up your right hand.” This was done 
at once. “Now,” she ordered, “come back to 
me and hold up your right hand again.” He 
repeated the action promptly, laughing heart¬ 
ily, and Mother Margaret continued sending 
him back and forth, and great indeed was his 
'enjoyment of the pastime, because, as he said, 
“It was the right hand every time.” 

Mother Margaret drew a long sigh of 
relief, her troubles seemed over. 




62 


COZY CORNER STORIES 


While the merry game was still going on 
the Lord High Chamberlain was ushered in 
and the child ran up to him at once, they were 
very fond of each other, and held out his right 
hand. The Lord High Chamberlain gathered 
him up in his arms at once and hugged him for 
very joy. 

“Why, the thing is done,” he said, “how 
ever did you manage it, Mother Margaret?” 

“Kindness and perseverance,” the good 
woman said modestly. 

The very next morning the heralds were 
sent out with a new proclamation which read in 
this wise, 

“Since no one has yet been able to show 
that he has become perfectly ambidextrous, and 
as there seems to be a danger that many chil- 







.. 






. • ■ 




' ‘ ' ' i. 


. > ■ < 4 ’■ '• 


% ''i<v, i' :' 





“Four ng/i£ Aanc? is 


next to the sailor— n 


63 






































































































64 


COZY CORNER STORIES 


dren, through these efforts, may become left- 
handed, and as one so affected is bound to be 
handicapped all through life, the offer per¬ 
taining to ambidexterity is hereby revoked.” 

When Mother Margaret was told about 
this proclamation she was very happy indeed 
and she decided that, after waiting a week or 
two, to be sure that the little king would not for¬ 
get all about the distinction between his right 
hand and his left, she would try to persuade the 
Lord High Chamberlain, whom she now saw 
every day, to forbid the manufacture of the 
mittens. 

For a few days everything went on finely, 
the little king made no mistakes about his right 
hand and seemed never to tire of playing what 
he called his “soldier and sailor game.” 




KING WHO WAS NOT CLEVER 


65 


Then, one day, three women came in, laden 
with brooms, dust-pans, mops, dust-cloths, etc. 

Mother Margaret knew their errand in¬ 
stantly, and taking the little king by the hand, 
they went into the garden to spend the time of 
house cleaning. 

They were gone two or three hours, and 
when they returned to the rooms everything was 
beautifully sweet and clean. A new book was 
lying on one of the tables, and for a long time, 
the king was very happy over its pictures, then 
he picked it up and carried it into the play¬ 
room to put it with his other books, for although 
he was a king, he had been taught to keep things 
in their proper places, a rule which kings need 
quite as much as common people. It was large 
and he was obliged to carry it with both hands. 




66 


COZY CORNER STORIES 


When he returned he was trundling a little 
wagon and was pulling it with his left hand. 

“Oh!” exclaimed Mother Margaret, “what 
is your majesty doing? Is that your right 
hand?” 

The little fellow looked up bewildered, and 
then cried out, with a burst of tears, 

“I don’t know, they’ve taken away my sol¬ 
dier and my sailor.” 

Can you imagine Mother Margaret’s feel¬ 
ings? She was almost ready to weep with the 
broken-hearted little king. But, instead, she 
controlled her feelings, took him up in her arms 
and soothed him with loving words. Soon his 
sobs ceased and he went to sleep with his head on 
her comfortable bosom. She was still holding 
him when the nurse came in with a bowl of 




KING WHO WAS NOT CLEVER 


67 


bread and milk for his supper, who when she 
saw the king’s position, set down the milk, ten¬ 
derly undressed him, put on his long silk night- 
robe, laid him in his downy bed behind his pink 
silk embroidered curtains, and left him sound 
asleep. 

But sad Mother Margaret! There was no 
joy for her, her problem again faced her, and 
all the night long she heard all the palace 
clocks striking the hours. Then suddenly, just 
as the dawn shone faintly through the East 
window a new thought came to her. She sat 
straight up in bed and said half aloud, “Why, 
of course, how stupid of me not to think of that 
long ago.” 

Then she dropped her head down on the 
pillow again, and in two minutes was sound 
asleep. 




68 


COZY CORNER STORIES 


When she awoke the sun was streaming 
in the east windows, glorifying the beautiful 
furnishings of her bedroom. 

She was out of bed with a bound, and go¬ 
ing to her dresser drawer she took out a little 
old box, worn and battered with long years of 
use, handling this box with careful fingers of 
love, she drew out a small gold ring, which she 
slipped on her little finger as far as the first joint. 

“It will just about fit him, I think, but can 
I do it? Can I give this ring, which has been 
my dearest and best treasure for so many years, 
to him who has everything? To him who, if he 
so wished, might cover his fingers with the 
choicest and best rings in the land?” 

Over and over again these thoughts went 
quickly through her mind, while she was mak¬ 
ing her usual morning toilet. 




KING WHO WAS NOT CLEVER 


69 


As soon as Mother Margaret was again 
alone with the child king, she said to him, in 
her most loving tone, 

“Your majesty, I would like to give you 
something to remember me by, if you will wear 
it.” 

“I will wear anything you will give me,” 
he replied, cuddling up to her lovingly, “but 
I don’t need anything to make me remember 
you, for I’m sure I’ll never forget you, if I live 
to be an old, old man, as old as the Lord High 
Chamberlain.” 

(He, by the way, was about forty years of 

age.) 

Then Mother Margaret took from her 
bosom, a little roll of white paper and brought 
out of it a shining gold ring. This she slipped 




70 


COZY CORNER STORIES 


on the ring finger of the king’s right hand, and 
it fitted as if it had been made for that very 
place. 

“Oh, how pretty!” exclaimed the king, 
“where did you get it? I didn’t know you had 
been to the city to buy anything.” 

“I haven’t,” said Mother Margaret, “it is 
a ring which my beloved father gave to me 
when I was no bigger than you, and I have kept 
it all these years, I think I must have been sav¬ 
ing it for you.” 

“It’s so pretty!” said the little fellow, 
spreading out his chubby fingers and gazing 
at the ring admiringly. 

“And you must never take it off,” said 
Mother Margaret, “if you should, it might get 
lost and that would be dreadful.” 




KING WHO WAS NOT CLEVER 


71 


Then a new thought came to her and she 

said, 

“I will wish it on to you,” she drew it off, 
and slipped it back on his finger, saying as she 
did so, 

“I wish your majesty may grow up to be 
the wisest king in the world, who will do so 
many kind things for his subjects that they 
will love him more than any king was ever 
loved before. “Now,” she added, very seri¬ 
ously, “you must not take the ring off, nor 
allow any one else to do so, if you do, the wish 
will never come true.” 

The little king looked at the ring a long 
time and seemed to be thinking the matter over 
very seriously, then he surprised good Mother 
Margaret by saying suddenly, 




72 


COZY CORNER STORIES 


“Why, it is on my right hand, isn’t it?” 

“Yes,” replied the good woman, almost 
speechless with joy, “it is, but how did you 
know?” 

“I can’t tell,” said the king, “but I just 
know, and now, I never can forget again, can 
I?” he added. 

“I don’t see how you can,” was Mother 
Margaret’s joyful answer. 

His majesty was so happy in the pos¬ 
session of the ring that he semed to forget all 
about the absence of the soldier and the sailor, 
and when they were brought back later in the 
day by the women who had taken them away 
to wash them, he did not even notice their 
return. 

When the Lord High Chamberlain ap- 




KING WHO WAS NOT CLEVER 


73 


peared late in the afternoon, according to his 
custom, the little king ran up to him and held 
out his right hand. 

“Oh,” he was asked, “why does your 
majesty give me that hand?” 

“Because,” said the boy, laughing, “it is 
the right hand, the other is the wrong one, and 
so it is left over hanging at my side.” 

“Oh!” exclaimed the Lord High Chamber- 
lain, shouting and laughing for joy, “talk about 
‘non compos mentis,’ nothing of that here.” 

Good Mother Margaret did not under¬ 
stand at all what he meant, but she felt sure it 
must be something good, so she laughed with 
him. 

Then he asked, “Where did you get your 
pretty ring?” 




74 


COZY CORNER STORIES 


“Mother Margaret gave it to me,” was the 
answer, “so that I will always remember her, 
and it was her’s when she was little like me, and 
it must not be taken off because it was wished 
on with a great big wish.” 

“Ah!” said the Lord High Chamberlain, 
looking at Mother Margaret with an under¬ 
standing smile, “i think it will be very fitting 
for you to give Mother Margaret a ring, what 
do you think about it?” 

“I should love that,” he answered, jump¬ 
ing up and down. 

“Very well, I will bring you one in the 
morning and you can put it on her finger 
yourself.” 

“And will she wear it on her right hand?” 
asked the king eagerly. 




KING WHO WAS NOT CLEVER 


75 


“I think she will, if you ask her to,” 
returned the Lord High Chamberlain, as he 
looked at Mother Margaret with a twinkle in 
his eye and walked out of the room. 

Mother Margaret, however, did not intend 
to let the Lord High Chamberlain escape in 
that way, so she immediately followed into the 
corridor and called out anxiously, 

“Oh, sir, please let me speak to you just a 
few moments!” 

“Yes, yes,” he replied, turning around and 
retracing his steps, “talk to me just as long as 
you want to, I never can tell you how grateful 
I feel to you, for you have saved us a world of 
trouble. If you have any request to make, let 
me know it and, I can truthfully say to you 
that it is granted even before you ask it.” 




76 


COZY CORNER STORIES 


Then Mother Margaret told him freely all 
her troubles, and also gave him her reasons for 
coming to the palace to work. 

When she had finished her story he shook 
his head very gravely as he said, 

“No, I do not think it would be right to 
stop the man making mittens, doubtless there 
will be always people who will want mittens 
instead of gloves, and since he has started the 
fashion, I think he should be allowed to con¬ 
tinue their manufacture. But this is what I 
will do for you, send word to your son to meet 
me here tomorrow morning at ten o’clock, I 
will find out exactly the sort of work he likes 
best and I will see that he has just what he wants 
to do right here in the palace, at a good round 




KING WHO WAS NOT CLEVER 


77 


salary, for the rest of his life. And now, dear 
Mother Margaret, there is one thing I must ask 
of you, tell me, if you will, how you happened 
to think of so simple a way of teaching the king 
to know his right hand, after everybody else 
had failed?” 

“I have always thought,” said the good 
woman modestly, “that one can teach almost 
anything to almost any child if one has love, 
patience and perseverance, enough ideas, plans 
and methods will come, if one is struggling 
faithfully toward the right way.” 

“You are right,” said the Lord High 
Chamberlain firmly, “and you are hereby 
created Great Royal Advisor for the rest of 
your natural life.” 




78 


COZY CORNER STORIES 


The next day, Mother Margaret’s son came 
to her with the joyful news that he had been 
made head master of the Royal Outside Ap¬ 
parel. An elegant mansion was at once pre¬ 
pared for him not far from the palace gates, 
and as soon as it could be accomplished, he and 
his whole family took up their residence 
therein and were apparently as happy as any 
family could be. 

Good Mother Margaret, however, con¬ 
tinued to live in the palace, beloved and re¬ 
spected by everybody, fulfilling her post as 
Royal Advisor, until she died a natural death 
at the ripe age of ninety years. 

What became of the little gold ring? 
When the king outgrew it, he had it fastened to 




KING WHO WAS NOT CLEVER 


79 


his watch-chain and he wore it constantly as 
long as he lived. 

I am sure you will be glad to know that 
good Mother Margaret’s wish for him came 
true in every particular. 









THE EZESPEL 



r 'T'HEY were twenty-six beautiful children 
and they lived together in a delightful 
place where they were all very happy. Noth¬ 
ing ever went wrong with them, for although 
their mother had made some very strict rules, 
they had learned obedience, and consequently, 
everything went on finely. Their mother was 
kind and always reasonably indulgent. In fact, 
it was one of her favorite sayings that she be¬ 
lieved in letting the children have just as good 


80 


THE EZESPEL 


81 


a time as they possibly could without injuring 
themselves, or anyone else. So, you may be 
sure, there were always merry times in that 
comfortable and beautiful home. 

But, one day, a queer thing happened. An 
elegant automobile with polished sides, shining 
glass windows, glittering silver mountings and 
a uniformed chauffeur, drew up in front of 
the house. The children were playing happily 
on the lawn, but the sight of this beautiful 
car drove all thoughts of their play out of their 
heads, and they ran to the edge of the sidewalk 
in order to get a closer view of the outfit and 
also to see what would happen next. 

In a few moments a stately gentleman, 
wearing a shining broadcloth suit, a glossy 
top hat, and carrying a gold-headed cane, 




82 


COZY CORNER STORIES 


opened the door of the car and stepped out 
upon the stone sidewalk among the children. 
He was such an imposing looking gentleman 
that the children immediately stepped shyly 
away from him, although they watched him 
with most observant eyes. 

He didn’t seem to mind their backing 
away from him, on the contrary, he followed 
them up, and as they did not continue their 
retreat, as soon as he was well among them he 
tcok off his top hat, made a very graceful bow 
and said, 

“Dear children, I don’t suppose you have 
ever heard of me, but I am Professor Phonetico 
and I belong to the big college near here, 
which you pass whenever you are out for a 
walk. Do you remember seeing that college?” 




THE EZESPEL 


83 


“Oh, yes, yes!” came the loud and cheerful 
shout from twenty-six lusty throats. 

“Yes,” added one of the older children, 
“and mother said we must always run past 
there just as fast as ever we can go.” 

“Where is your excellent mother?” asked 
the stately gentleman very politely. 

It was quite unnecessary for the professor 
to ask that question, because he had seen her 
pass the college door before he had set out to 
visit her home. 

“She has gone out to visit fairy Common- 
sense,” said another one of the children, “do 
you happen to know her?” 

“Not at all,” was the answer, “I don’t take 
any stocks in fairies.” 

“Oh, but you don’t have to,” said another 




84 


COZY CORNER STORIES 



He was such an imposing looking gentleman — 












THE EZESPEL 


85 


child, “they don’t wear stockings, at least I 
think they don’t,” she corrected, “mother has 
told us a lot about fairy Commonsense, but she 
never said anything about any stockings.” 

“Your mother is very intimate with fairy 
Commonsense, I suppose?” 

“Yes, yes, yes,” they all shouted in unison 
again. 

“Does she ever come here to visit you?” 
was the next question asked. 

There was another chorus of “yes,” and 
when the sound had died away, a little voice 
piped up, 

“Mother lets her come when we are all 
asleep.” 

“When you are asleep! why is that?” asked 
the professor. 




86 


COZY CORNER STORIES 


“Mother doesn’t allow visitors when we 
are awake,” explained another child. 

“Oho! she doesn’t, eh?” exclaimed the pro¬ 
fessor, with an uproarious laugh. “Well, now, 
I tell you what I will do, jump into the car 
with me and I will take you all for a beautiful 
ride through the woods, were you ever in the 
woods?” 

“No, no, no!” shouted the twenty-six 
voices. 

“Then you shall have the treat of your lives, 
jump into the car, hurry up now, we must 
get away before your mother returns, because 
if we don’t, perhaps she will not let you go.” 

Now, if any one of these children had 
taken a moment’s thought they would have 
known that their mother would not have al- 




THE EZESPEL 


87 


lowed them to go off in that way with a perfect 
stranger, but the thought of a long drive into 
the beautiful green woods, where the birds were 
singing and the flowers were blooming, had 
driven all thoughts of obedience out of their 
heedless little heads. So, they at once began to 
climb into the car. 

But even before they were all inside, 
mother Alphabet was coming down the street, 
sprinting in a manner most remarkable for an 
old lady of her age. Her bonnet was very 
crooked and her shawl was slipping from her 
shoulders, but she cared nothing for these 
things, for she knew the automobile the mo¬ 
ment she saw it, and she felt she must get her 
children out of it at once. 

The professor saw her coming, and he 




88 


COZY CORNER STORIES 


whistled to his chauffeur, who had strayed down 
the street, while his employer was talking to 
the children. 

The professor’s whistle was so sharp that 
the chauffeur knew the matter was urgent, and 
a race was on at once between the chauffeur and 
old mother Alphabet. 

Mother Alphabet was on the ground first. 

“Children!” she called firmly, “what are 
you doing in that dreadful place? Get out of it 
this minute!” 

As they, like the good obedient children 
they were, began scrambling out of the car, 
she exclaimed, 

“Didn’t you read the name on his old 
machine? That’s the way he writes ‘Easy 
Spell,’ but it means the same dreadful thing 




THE EZESPEL 


89 


after all, and you ought to be ashamed to be 
found within a hundred miles of it. Run into 
the house now and shut the door.” 

The chauffeur had arrived by this time and, 
at a commanding motion from the professor, 
he jumped to the wheel, but just as he placed 
his hand on it, before he could give it even one 
turn, the last one of Mother Alphabet’s chil¬ 
dren bounded out of the car. 

Then the professor’s voice took on as much 
kindness as he could put into its tones. 

“Oh, Mother Alphabet, do please leave 
me a few of your children, you have so many 
and I am very lonely.” 

“No,” said the mother angrily, “I need 
them all, every one has his, or her work to do, 
so you needn’t waste your time standing around 
here. 




90 


COZY CORNER STORIES 


By this time the children were well on 
their way toward the house. They were very 
sure that their mother knew what was best for 
them. So they did not even stop to look around 
at the professor and his beautiful machine. 

“But, I think,” said the professor, that you 
might, at least leave me ‘R’, he is such a 
rough fellow at best, and is every day becoming 
more and more unfashionable.” 

But the mother only shook her head and 
called out loudly, 

“Hurry along into the house ‘R,’ I need 
you if no one else does.” 

“But there is ‘Q,’ ” coaxed the man, “he is 
of very little use, always has to have ‘U’ tagging 
around after him. I don’t see why you can’t 
make ‘K’ do the work for him, then you’ll 
hardly know that he is gone.” 




THE EZESPEL 


91 


But “Q,” in spite of his twisted foot, was 
already half way up the marble steps. 

“You don’t know what you are talking 
about,” said old Mother Alphabet angrily, 
“make ‘K’ do the work of ‘Q,’ indeed! It never 
could be done successfully.” 

“Well, then,” the professor went on, still 
more coaxingly than before, “If you will not 
do anything else give me ‘P’ and ‘H,’ their 
work can always be done so much better and 
more easily by ‘F.’ People are beginning to 
find this out the world over, and ‘P’ and ‘H’ 
have both fallen into sad disrepute.” But as 
he looked up at this moment, he saw that all the 
children were safely in the house and the door 
was shut. 




92 


COZY CORNER STORIES 


“I never saw such selfishness like yours,” 
growled the professor, now very angry. “If 
you are determined not to let me have any 
others, you can surely recall ‘S’ and ‘Z,’ I 
can’t see what you want of children who do all 
their work in the same way. You certainly 
don’t pretend that you need ‘C’ and ‘K’ and ‘S’ 
and ‘Z’? Why it’s ridiculous, just think of it 
a minute and you’ll see how foolish you are.” 

Then the mother fell into a rage. 

“Clear out,” she said, “with your old auto¬ 
mobile, don’t you suppose I know its name?” 

“Of course you do, since the name is up 
there in very plain letters, I’m sure I’m not 
ashamed of it, that’s the way to spell, the idea 
of using ‘A’ to help ‘E’, ‘E’ doesn’t need any 




THE EZESPEL 


93 


help, and why should you put two ‘L’s where 
one will do?” You have no idea how popular 
I am, everyone likes me but you, and people 
chase after me, crying out, 

“Come give me a ride Professor Phonetico 
in your beautiful car, had you stayed away a 
few minutes longer I would have had all of 
your beautiful children in it and carried off 
where you never would have seen them again.” 

“You will drive me crazy yet,” cried poor 
Mother Alphabet, “and now, you’d better be 
off, for I tell you, if you don’t go, I’ll have 
Fairy Commonsense here in a minute, and 
she’ll . . .” 

But she didn’t get a chance to tell him 
what would happen, for he was so frightened 




94 


COZY CORNER STORIES 


by the fairy’s name that he was in the car and 
rolling off down the street in a hurry. Then 
Mother Alphabet straightened her hat, took 
her shawl from the ground and went slowly 
up the steps of her home with a smile of satis¬ 
faction. 








The Goose and the Gander 


THE FEATHER TRAP 
NE bright spring morning, farmer Wise¬ 



man and his young son came into the 
poultry yard immediately after breakfast, and it 
was soon apparent to every living creature in 
the yard that something unusual was going on. 

The bantam rooster who was wise as well as 
inquisitive, and who never lost an opportunity 
to acquire information, took his place on a 


95 






96 


COZY CORNER STORIES 


fence nearby and watched and listened. He 
saw the farmer and his son set a tall pole firmly 
in the ground, then, by the aid of a ladder, 
the farmer climbed up and put a dangerous 
looking steel trap on top of the pole. He cov¬ 
ered the trap with a large heap of feathers, and 
on top of these he tied several chicken wings. 
Then the bantam rooster heard the farmer say, 

“I have often caught owls this way, and 
I’m sure I can catch that thieving hawk that has 
been visiting all the poultry yards around 
here.” 

Then the bantam rooster crowed as loud as 
his small throat would let him. 

“It can’t be done, it can’t be done, hawks 
are not owls, it can’t be done, it can’t be done! 
you’ll see, you’ll see!” 





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Crowed as loud as his small throat would let him 

97 


























































































98 


COZY CORNER STORIES 


But the farmer went on with his work, and 
the bantam rooster grew so excited that he 
hopped off from the fence and flew right into 
the midst of some geese, who were paddling 
about in a little pool under the poultry yard 
pump. 

“Did you hear that?” he asked, “that man 
over there thinks he can catch a hawk as easily 
as he can an owl.” 

“Why, even a goose knows better than 
that,” said the old gander. 

Then the story went the rounds, carried 
eagerly from bill to bill. 

“That man thinks he can catch a hawk as 
easily as he can an owl.” Such a crowing, and a 
cackling and a quacking as there was. 

“What ails the fowls?” said farmer Wise- 




THE FEATHER TRAP 


99 


man, “anyone would suppose the hawk was 
after them.” 

“Dear me,” said the brown leghorn hen, 
“I’m glad I’m not a human, I believe I’d rather 
end my days in a pie than to know as little as a 
man.” 

“Yes,” said the bantam hen, “anyone would 
think that a creature as big as a man would know 
everything, but size doesn’t count for much, it 
seems, for even I know that a hawk can’t be 
fooled that way, and I’m the smallest thing in 
the poultry yard except the baby chicks.” 

“No indeed,” said a big, fat duck, “the 
hawk can see with one eye, that there’s nothing 
alive under all those feathers. An owl wouldn’t 
know, of course, for he is half blind in the day¬ 
time.” 




100 


COZY CORNER STORIES 


“What’s the matter here?” asked a robin, 
who at this moment alighted on one of the 
pickets which surrounded the poultry yard. 
You’re making a great racket about something, 
and I was almost afraid to stop here a moment 
on my way to my nest.” 

A pert young Wyandotte pullet told the 
story of the trap, and ended by asking, “Did 
you ever know anyone so foolish as a human?” 

“See here,” chirped the robin, “you fowls 
think yourselves very wise, but there is one 
thing you haven’t found out yet, and that is that 
humans are not all alike. My nest is in that 
big elm near the house porch, and yesterday, I 
heard them talking about the feather trap. A 
young lady was there, who said she had read 
and studied about birds a great deal, and that 




THE FEATHER TRAP 


101 



“What's the matter here?” asked a robin 













102 


COZY CORNER STORIES 


she knew the hawk wouldn’t come near the 
trap. But the man said he guessed he knew 
more about such things than a girl, so he went 
on and made the trap this morning.” 

The fowls all said they wished that they 
could see that young lady, and they asked the 
robin so many questions about her that he took 
to his wings to get away from them. 

The days went on and the feather trap still 
held its high place on top of the pole, as undis¬ 
turbed as if it had been a hard and lonely rock 
on a high mountain. 

The fowls had quite forgotten their excite¬ 
ment over the folly of Mr. Wiseman. They saw 
the hawk, it is true, frequently sailing over the 
poultry yard, but as the old mother hens were 
pretty watchful and called their broods together 




THE FEATHER TRAP 


103 


whenever they saw those wide-spread gray 
wings poised above them, nothing happened. 

Outside of the poultry yard, quite on the 
other side of the farm-yard, was a small flock of 
turkeys, among which were some tender baby 
“turks.” The fowls often heard commotions in 
that part of the farm-yard, but were quite 
unable to tell exactly what was going on. The 
farmer’s wife, however, knew all about it, and 
one day she said to her husband, “You must 
do something about that hawk, he has begun 
carrying off my little turkeys now, and I just 
can’t stand that.” 

So the farmer had to shoot the hawk the 
next time he made his appearance. Then he 
took the trap down and hung it up in the barn, 
but being a man who could never change his 




104 


COZY CORNER STORIES 


mind, he still thought he could have caught the 
hawk if he had been given time enough. 

The fowls, of course, heard the gun go off, 
and were all very much excited about it. While 
they were crowing, and cackling, and quack¬ 
ing about it all, the old family cat, who was 
always sneaking outside the poultry yard fence, 
brought the news that the hawk was dead, and 
for a little while after that news was received, 
if you had been in the poultry yard, you 
couldn’t have heard yourself think. 

The next time the robin took up his post 
on the picket fence of the poultry yard, to sing 
his evening song, the bantam rooster asked, 
with his very best crow, 

“Did the man own up that the girl knew 
more about birds than he did?” 




THE FEATHER TRAP 


105 


“Well, I didn’t hear about that,” chirped 
the robin, “but whether he did or not, he has 
probably found out this much, that some birds, 
as well as some humans, are much wiser than 
others.” 








“Nonsense,” laughed the pebble 

THE SELFISH PEBBLE 

Y OU are only a grain of sand,” said the 
pebble scornfully. 

“But I was once a pebble,” was the answer, 
“and as I am, you will one day be.” 

“Nonsense,” laughed the pebble, pressing 
hard against the tiny white grain, “My beauti- 


106 



















THE SELFISH PEBBLE 


107 


ful rounded sides, so hard and smooth can 
never fall to pieces and become like you tiny 
and worthless things.” Then the grains of sand 
all came together, and flowing about the boast¬ 
ful pebble, covered him up from all eyes. 

But he was content. He had been tossing 
about in the salt water ever since he could 
remember, and he was glad to rest. 

“Who knows what I may become, if I lie 
here long enough? Perhaps a ruby, perhaps 
a diamond, and then I shall be taken out to 
decorate the crown of a queen and shall see all 
the wonderful things that are in this great and 
busy world.” 

So he waited, quietly content, thinking that 
someday all his aspirations and ambitions 
would be satisfied. 





108 


COZY CORNER STORIES 


By and by the tide came in, it washed over 
his resting place, stirring up the sand, and the 
pebble feared he should again be carried out to 
sea, that dreadful sea, which he hated with all 
the hatred of his hard, pebble heart. 

But the grains of sand, the tiny, white 
grains of sand kept him safe. True they 
pushed him about a little and rubbed against 
his sides more than was pleasant, but even that, 
he thought, was far better than to be tossed into 
the water again, and to lie there, perhaps, for 
untold ages. Here, at least there was one 
chance in a thousand for something better some 
day, but there, in the cold, unpitying water, 
nothing could happen. So, the little pebble 
nestled closer and closer among the sheltering 
grains of sand, thinking the while, “You are 




THE SELFISH PEBBLE 


109 


useless, disagreeable little things generally, yet 
now I am very glad of your protection.” 

Thus time passed, days all alike, monot¬ 
onous even to a pebble, nothing but the sand, 
sand everywhere. 

One day the pebble heard voices, and soon 
he heard these words, 

“Mamma, may I take home a box-full of 
this beautiful, white sand? I will keep it in one 
corner of the nursery, and never scatter it 
about. It will be lovely to play with when the 
snow is on the ground. Please say yes, mother.” 

A consent was given, and then the pebble 
felt that he was being gently lifted up with the 
grains of sand, how his heart rejoiced. 

“Ah!” he said to himself, “at last I am to 
see the world, but it is very humiliating to be 




110 


COZY CORNER STORIES 


with these common grains of sand, and now 
that I am going into the great world and shall 
see human beings, living always in their won¬ 
derful company, I shall work away from this 
miserable, common sand just as soon as I pos¬ 
sibly can.” 

Had he not been so wrapped in his own 
selfish plans, he would have understood that it 
was the sand which was wanted and not the 
hard, little pebble. 

Then suddenly the childish voice ex¬ 
claimed, 

“Oh, here’s a pebble! I don’t want any 
horrid little pebbles in my beautiful white 
sand.” 

So, she picked it out with her dainty 
fingers and threw it as far as she could into the 


ocean. 




THE BEST FAIRIES 



NCE UPON A TIME, a beautiful little 



fairy said to herself, “Now I’ll run 
around among real children, granting to each 
one of them one wish and one only, but they 
will have it almost as soon as it is made. But 
before I go, I must have a handsome new 
costume, because, who knows there might 
now and then be found a pair of human eyes 
that can see fairies. I have heard of such 
things, although I have never believed it.” 

So she found a cobweb, which was 
spangled all over most beautifully with dew- 


111 




112 


COZY CORNER STORIES 


drops, and out of it she fashioned, with a thorn 
from a rosebush and a thread stolen from a silk 
worm a gown which set all fairydom to talking 
about her cleverness. Then she made herself 
a cape out of a mushroom, with its pink lining, 
a hat from a clover blossom, and with a pair 
of buttercup shoes on her feet, away she flew 
to a place where a dozen children were playing 
on a wide, smooth lawn in front of a handsome 
house. 

While they were shouting at their play, a 
big rosy cheeked boy came out of the house and 
cried out, 

“Oh, I’ve had the finest piece of pie you 
ever tasted! My! I wish I had a whole house 
made out of such pie!” 

Suddenly, right there before them all stood 




THE BEST FAIRIES 


113 


a beautiful little house made of the loveliest 
flaky pie-crust, and dotted all over with big, lus¬ 
cious raisins. For it seemed, that he had been 
eating raisin pie. 

The boy ran up to the house at once and 
took a generous bite out of the big front door. 

When the other children saw what he had 
done, they thought they too might as well have 
some pie, so they, one and all ran at the pretty 
little house and began taking generous bites 
therefrom. The boy kept telling them all the 
while to “go away and let his pie-house alone,” 
and at the same time, trying, now and then, to 
get a bite for himself. But they paid no atten¬ 
tion to his commands, and as they were all so 
busy filling themselves with pie, other children, 
coming along the sidewalk, saw what was 




114 


COZY CORNER STORIES 


going on there on the lawn, and as all children 
love pie, they ran up to get a few mouthfuls 
too. So, before the poor boy really knew what 
was going on his pie was entirely gone, and he 
had only had three or four mouthfuls of it him¬ 
self. What did he do then? Just what you 
would have done I presume, he sat down under 
a tree and wept great, big tears, just as fast as 
they could come down out of his eyes. The 
other children, now that the pie was gone, all 
ran away, except one little girl, she came up to 
console him, and she said kindly. 

“How did you get your pie-house, little 
boy?” 

“Oh,” he said, “I just wished I had a whole 
house made out of pie and there it was.” 

“How fine!” said the little girl, “now I’ll 




THE BEST FAIRIES 


115 


wish for a house made out of diamonds and 
gold, no one can eat that up.” 

And there, in a twinkling, stood a house, 
not a very large one, to be sure, but a house all 
the same, made out of diamonds and gold. 

Oh, how happy she was! She ran all around 
it looking it over, peeping in the windows and 
doors, because it was too small for her to enter. 

“I am going home to tell my father,” she 
said, “so he’ll come and take it home for me. 
You stop crying now and come here near my 
house and watch it so that no one can come and 
take it away.” 

But the boy wouldn’t stop crying long 
enough to even listen to her, so she stopped 
talking to him, after a while, and ran off to her 
own home, hoping no one would see the little 




116 


COZY CORNER STORIES 


house until she returned with her father. But 
when she reached her own home there was no 
one there but the servants and, as she was a 
little girl who loved to tell big stories, no one 
would believe a word she said. She feared to 
stay too long away from the house made out of 
diamonds and gold, so she ran back again. 

As she went along she formed a plan to 
offer the first man she saw a handful of dia¬ 
monds out of the roof to get the house safely 
under the shelter of her own home. 

“For,” she said, “the house will never be 
out in the rain, so it will not matter if there is 
a hole in the roof.” 

But what do you think happened? 

When she came back to the lawn where 
the house had stood, she saw two men in the 



















118 


COZY CORNER STORIES 


distance carrying the house away between 
them. She ran after them and called to them 
as loudly as she could, but her little voice was 
so weak that it could not be heard above the 
city noise, and her little legs were so short that 
they could not make any headway against the 
men’s long legs, and they were soon entirely 
out of her sight. 

Then, she too, began to cry. She ran back 
to the spot where the boy was crying under the 
tree and sat down and cried with him, great big 
hot tears, coming down so fast one wondered 
where they all came from. 

I have heard it said that their united tears 
made a river so wide and so deep that they 
floated away on it, and as they had neither a 
boat nor a life-preserver, you will not think it 




THE BEST FAIRIES 


119 


strange that they have not been heard from 
since. 

Of course, the fairy having gotten them 
into this trouble, ought to have gone after 
them and brought them back safely to their 
respective homes, but she was already far away, 
granting other foolish wishes to other foolish 
children and, no doubt, bringing them also 
tears and trouble. 

So, I have about made up my mind, and I 
think you will agree with me, that it is the safest 
plan to let all fairies alone, except those two, 
which we know so well, and which are known 
as Hard Work and Common Sense. 

If we make good strong friends of these 
two, they will never bring such troubles upon 
us as came to this unhappy boy and girl. 





BEHIND THE WALLS 


r I ''HERE was once a strange and wonderful 
place, called “Heartland.” 

It was made beautiful in the beginning, 
but it did not remain so long, for its keeper, 
whose name was Huma, foolishly admitted 
within its borders some disagreeable young 
creatures. These creatures increased so in size 


120 




BEHIND THE WALLS 


121 



A wonderful One in shining robes — 










122 


COZY CORNER STORIES 


and numbers that the whole of the once fair 
Heartland was overrun with them. 

To tell you all their names would more 
than fill this page, so I’ll write down only a few 
of them, “Malice,” “Envy,” “Jealousy,” “Self¬ 
ishness,” and “Backbiting.” If you have ever 
heard of these bad, black creatures, you will 
understand that this Heartland, where they 
dwelt in company with many other ill-looking 
beings, was not a lovely place even to think 
about. 

Huma, however, was very fond of these 
ugly things, but as he knew the whole world 
would despise him if it found out that he kept 
them in Heartland, he built a high and tight 
wall all about the place, so that none of the 
creatures could escape. The name of the wall 




BEHIND THE WALLS 


123 


was ‘Self-Restraint,” and there were several 
little gates in the wall called “Caution,” and 
now and then Huma would open one of these 
gates and let some of the hideous black things 
come forth for his own amusement, then people 
would shudder and say, 

“How can he keep so vile a thing near 
him?” little suspecting that there were a multi¬ 
tude of similar creatures, shut in behind the 
high walls of Self-Restraint. 

Now and then a wonderful One in shining 
robes came to Huma and said in soft pleading 
whispers, 

“Let the heavenly sunshine into Heartland, 
then you will not need this high wall of Self- 
Restraint, which is but a poor thing at best, and 
must, sooner or later, give way.” 




124 


COZY CORNER STORIES 


But Huma only shook his head in answer 
to these appeals, and drove the bright one away. 
So, at last, after very many of these unkind 
receptions, the shining one came no more to 
Huma. 

So time went on, but one day, Old Age 
passed that way. 

Now, old age is ruthless, so he laid his 
sceptre on the walls of Self-Restraint and they 
went down like walls of paper, then lo! all the 
black and evil things of Heartland were 
exposed to the gaze of the world. 

Then the beholders said, 

“Poor man, we must overlook all the mean 
things he says and does, because he is so old. 
It was not so when he was young,” alas! they 
could not see that these hideous things could 




BEHIND THE WALLS 


125 


not have showed thus in his old age, had they 
not been fostered and cherished during the 
years of his youth and early manhood. 

Even at this late day, if Huma had called 
to the Shining One for help, all these evil crea¬ 
tures, although grown so large and lusty, would 
have been driven out. 

But Huma did not want to be rid of them, 
no indeed, he loved them dearly, loved them 
with all his might. 

But alas! and alas! now that his dearest 
companions were thus exposed to the gaze of 
men, there was not in the whole wide world a 
single being, not even a dog, who loved him, 
and people looking on, being only superficial 
observers, at the best, said, 

“How unlovely is old age!” 


FINIS 










































. 








































































































































